


Separate

by cake_and_kuyashii



Series: Akai Ito [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: An Incredibly Elaborate Fix-it Fic, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cheesecake, Deja Vu, Dreamsharing, Falling In Love, Fantasy elements, Fisherman/Merman, Flashbacks, Getting Back Together, Historical, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kami/Priest, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Magical Realism, Mystery, Past Lives, Prince/Scholar, Red String of Fate, Reincarnation, Samurai/Samurai, Sharing a Bed, Shinto, Soulmates, Which I Only Just Realized, Yakuza/Artist, now with fanart!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2019-10-29 18:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cake_and_kuyashii/pseuds/cake_and_kuyashii
Summary: I think we've lived a thousand lives, I try to find you every time“Find me,” Tatsuki’s lips whispered against his ear, “Promise you’ll find me.”Daisuke ran his hand up through Tatsuki’s hair, twisting in it briefly before cradling the back of his head, pressing a desperate kiss to his jaw, his cheek, as the world seemed to start crumbling around them, “Always.”Or, what happens when two people break all the rules of the spirit world to be together, lifetime after lifetime, bound by the red string they tied themselves in defiance of the fates, and the dangerous consequences they face.





	1. Red Strings & Coffee Cups

_Nerves on fire, your hand in mine,_  
_I wouldn't mind if I died._  
_I'm by your side,_  
_Tonight I'll give you my life._  
  
_Pull away the world from me,_  
_I don't mind._  
_As long as they don't separate you from me_ _  
I'll be fine._

-PVRIS, Separate

In one timeline we kiss but the stars don’t come down. In another you set a world on fire for me but I perish in the flames. Another and we’re strangers on a busy street, brushing by close enough to send each other reeling off balance but not stopping. Somewhere there’s a final space where your hand on my face is the punchy climax to an epic saga, where the way our mouths meet takes the breath right out of people’s throats. One universe has us right, of all the millions stacked on millions. So it’s not this one. I can live with that. The world is full of wonders and a hundred years ago the moon was too much to dream of touching. Look how far we’ve come. Turn over your shoulder and just look. Maybe we’ll come across each other at the turning of the century, racing across the breaches between worlds. I’ll build my life on that maybe.  
-elisabeth hewer

 

##  **SEPARATE**

  

#### I.RED STRINGS & COFFEE CUPS

_The sound of small bells, chiming - the distinctive shake of the kagura suzu. Tendrils of smoke, rising from ceremonial incense, curling in the air between them. Candlelight, hundreds of candles lit on either side of them, along the walls. The warm glow was illuminating Tatsuki’s face - he held his chin high, gaze set, determined. Beautiful and striking. His hair was down, framing his features, thick and silky black, ending just below his shoulders. He was kneeling before him, hands firmly on his knees, fingers curling in the teal fabric of his hakama, the billowy white sleeves of his nagajuban pooling on the floor of the haiden._

_“They’ll come after us,” Daisuke warned, even as he held the long, glowing, delicate red thread out before him, laid across his open palms, presenting it to Tatsuki._

_“Let them.” Tatsuki’s voice and the glint in his eye were rife with defiance._

_He lifted his left hand and extended it, fingers poised as elegantly as always. Daisuke’s lips curved into a smile as he began to tie one end of the string around Tatsuki’s little finger. He knotted it carefully, pulled it tight. He paused, leaning down to press a kiss to the knot, to the warm skin underneath it. Tatsuki shivered reflexively. Daisuke glanced up at him, still smiling with one side of his mouth._

_“We might die.” He cautioned again, adding one more feather-light kiss before sitting up, passing the string to Tatsuki and extending his own left hand._

_“I’m not afraid.” Tatsuki replied firmly, trailing his fingertips along Daisuke’s palm before starting to tie the other end of the string around his little finger. His eyes flickered up to meet Daisuke’s as he pulled the knot tight. “We’ll make our own fate.”_

_The howling began immediately, screams of the dead, shrieks of the fates, swirling around them, at their boldness, at their deliberate fracturing of the natural order, of what was destined to be. Daisuke grabbed Tatsuki’s shoulders and pulled him in, arms wrapping around him tightly, clutching him protectively as the building began to shake. They were coming. They would be punished._

_“Find me,” Tatsuki’s lips whispered against his ear, “Promise you’ll find me.”_

_Daisuke ran his hand up through Tatsuki’s hair, twisting in it briefly before cradling the back of his head, pressing a desperate kiss to his jaw, his cheek, as the world seemed to start crumbling around them, “Always.”_

_And then they were falling, somehow, floor, world ripped away, surrounded by darkness, by a deep void. Tatsuki was ripped from his arms, reaching out for him in vain, panic, sorrow, etched into his face as he went into a brief free fall, before the string pulled taut, tight, jolting them both, flinging them in the empty space like ragdolls._

_“Daisuke!” Tatsuki’s cry was distressed, frightened. Tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes, droplets now flying off and hanging in the dark air like little crystal globes, time slowed, suspended._

_“I’ll find you!” Daisuke yelled, swearing it with every fibre of his essence, of his being._

_Tatsuki’s smiling face, looking up at him, red thread stretching between them. Then darkness._

* * *

Dai shot upright with a giant gasp, gulping for air, covered in a cold sweat. His heart hammered in his chest, hand shaking as he brought it up to find the pulse in his neck, will it to steady. That dream again. He sighed, running his fingers back through his hair, glancing at the bright red digits on the hotel’s bedside alarm clock. Three a.m. and some minutes. It had been years, since he’d had that dream. It was always the same. He glanced around the hotel bed as his body started to calm down and his eyes adjusted to the dark, looking for wherever his phone had gone to as he’d drifted off to sleep. There. He grabbed it and swiped his finger across the screen to unlock it, chewing on his bottom lip as his thumb hovered over the “Contacts” button.

Yeah. Fuck it. He tapped again. Scrolled down. Tap. His heart picked up again, but with a nervousness this time. He silently scolded himself, feeling embarrassed, feeling like a schoolboy. He was startled when the ringing stopped after only two bells.

“Daisuke Takahashi. It is three in the morning.”

Dai grinned widely at the sound of Tatsuki’s voice, clipped and cool and very annoyed. “Hey. Yeah, sorry, I just. Was thinking about you. Wanted to say hi.”

“At three in the morning? I don’t want to know what you were thinking about me at three in the morning. Control yourself.” Tatsuki replied, as dry as ever. It didn’t wither Dai’s grin. Maybe he was optimistic, maybe he was foolish, but he could swear he heard a fondness there. An exasperated fondness, but a fondness. He’d take it.

“I had a dream. About you. About us.” Dai started, hesitantly.

Tatsuki groaned, “Disgusting, tell it to your hand, I’m hanging up.”

“No, no, no, wait, please!” Dai couldn’t bite back a laugh as he stumbled over himself to explain, “Not like that! It was innocent, it’s just...a weird...I don’t know. I just wanted to call. To say hi.”

“Hi.” Tatsuki’s voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. It made Dai’s heart thump painfully in his chest.

“Hi.” He mumbled back, slowly laying back down on the bed, glancing again at the clock. Glancing at the empty space beside him. Thinking. “Do you wanna get a coffee or something? Tomorrow? Today, I guess?”

“You’re incorrigible.” Tatsuki’s tone was flat and scolding, but Dai could easily picture his lips curled up into a smirk on the other end of the phone.

“C’mon, please?” Dai pleaded gently, still smiling, “I’m in Tokyo for a few days, doing some filming. It would be nice to see you. Catch up. I can tell you all about the dream, aren’t you curious?”

Dai swore he could hear Tatsuki rolling his eyes from the way he sighed, “Fine. Coffee. You absolute weirdo.”

“Great! Coffee...tomorrow...that place near Waseda? That cafe you like. Eleven?” Dai probably sounded too enthusiastic, too eager, but he was too old, too unconcerned with such things, to really care. Too excited, now, too. It had been a while. A really long while. He swallowed, “Hey, Macchi…”

Tatsuki’s breath hitched, a slight intake but loud enough to hear, a bristle at the casual drop of the nickname, after so long. But he didn’t interrupt, the silence on the other end of the line bidding Dai to continue.

“Were you dreaming? Just now? Before I called.” Dai wet his lips, anxious in the silence hanging between them. He could hear Tatsuki’s breathing over the phone, in the quiet of the early morning dark, soft and even, lulling him back into comfort, into a drowsy state as he waited for his reply.

“I was sleeping,” Tatsuki said simply, softly, after a while, “So probably. I don’t remember. But I’d like to go back to sleeping now, if that’s alright. Good night, Daisuke.”

“Night,” Dai mumbled back, sleepy and a little disappointed, but perking up and smiling as he added, “See you tomorrow.”

“Mmm.” Tatsuki hummed in affirmation, and ended the call.

Dai was still smiling as he slid his phone underneath his pillow, closing his eyes and wondering if the dream would come again as he drifted back off to sleep.

* * *

He didn’t dream at all, after that, or at least nothing that he could remember in the morning. Now, he was standing outside the small parkside cafe he knew Tatsuki was fond of, walking distance from Waseda University and with a good view of the nearby park. He stood by the small round table he’d picked out for them, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, constantly running a hand through his hair, checking the time again and again on his phone. 10:56. 10:56. 10:57.

He knew it was pointless to keep checking - Tatsuki would be on the dot, punctual as ever - but he couldn’t help himself. There was a trickle of apprehension running through his veins, underneath his skin. He _knew_ he wouldn’t stand him up, it wasn’t in his character, it wouldn’t be like him - but still, what if he did? 10:58. What if waking him up at three in the morning babbling about dreams was the final straw? He bit back his own grin, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. That would be pretty funny, actually, if _that_ was the ultimate deal-breaker, after everything. He needed to stop worrying. 10:58.

It really had been a while. Last summer, Dai had returned to competition, and Tatsuki had retired from the ice forever. He’d thought their paths couldn’t possibly get more star-crossed, and then _that_ had happened, and well. He rocked up on the balls of his feet, then back down onto his heels, thinking. It had given them at least one more night to remember, after their last ice show together. Probably shouldn’t think about that right now. 10:59. If he started remembering _that_ \- the way Tatsuki’s fingers twitched against his skin, where they’d dug into his shoulders, the way he’d bite his lip when his eyes slipped shut and his head rolled back, the way his breath felt, hot against Dai’s ear as he gasped out his name - if he did that, he’d definitely be greeting Tatsuki with red cheeks and a lecherous grin and _that_ was no way to greet-

His mind went blank as Tatsuki came into view. He bit into his lip a little harder to stop his mouth from dropping open. Staring normally was at least a modicum better than staring dumbstruck and slack-jawed. Admittedly he was maybe still visibly dumbstruck. Tatsuki had let his hair grow out again. It was a little bit longer than it had been last summer, styled, curled slightly under just above his shoulders. It was the start of autumn, somehow, already, and he looked every part the professor - long, black coat, unbuttoned, hands tucked into the pockets, over a corded navy sweater with the stiff collar of a button up shirt sticking out at the top, a simple black scarf draped around his neck. Sleek grey trousers, hugging his form in a way that was definitely a deliberate stylistic choice, cuffs hanging low over smart black dress shoes. He was smiling, and the closer he got, close enough to read Dai’s face, the more one side of his lips tugged up into a confident smirk.

Dai, caught staring once again, far from the first time that had happened, stopped biting back his smile, let it stretch into a full grin as Tatsuki slowed his stroll and stopped in front of him. They nodded to each other, a slight tilt of the head, both unsure, really, what sort of greeting was appropriate. This would do, for now.

“Hi,” Dai said, tucking his chin down into the folds of his own black scarf, as his was already wrapped in a soft pillow around his neck against the autumn chill, “You look great.”

Tatsuki snorted and glanced away, but he was still smiling. “Please. Sweet words only please a fool.” He slowly looked up to meet Dai’s eyes again, cheeks slightly pink and the smugness behind his eyes betraying how he really felt about it. “It’s good to see you, Daisuke. Shall we?”

They made a brief detour inside to order their drinks - Dai, opting for a latte with a generous dollop of caramel syrup, Tatsuki, a black filter, both in cups and saucers - then sat down facing each other across the table Dai had pre-selected. Tatsuki raised his eyebrows as he lifted his coffee to his lips, prodding Dai to begin as he took his first sip.

“So...how have you been?” Dai started off nice and slow, easing in. “How’s Waseda?”

Tatsuki shrugged one shoulder as he placed his cup back down onto it’s saucer. “You know. Nothing very exciting. My research is going well. I have some very promising students, in the classroom and at the barre.” He tilted his head, picking up his cup again and holding it between his palms for warmth. “And you? How’s the competitive figure skating world doing? Congratulations, by the way. Your wins must have really put the fear of god into the younger generation. Next season will certainly be exciting in your wake.” His expression softened a little, concern evident in his voice, “How’s your knee?”

Dai felt a little pull at his heart strings. “Ah...it’s okay. Thanks for asking. Hanging in there.” He paused to take a drink of his own coffee, tips of his ears feeling a little hot under the weight of Tatsuki’s congratulations. “And thanks. It’s good, to be back. To be able to finish things, my way, on my terms...I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

“Mmm,” Tatsuki stiffened a little, face shifting to something imperceptible, lost in a memory, maybe, but which one, Dai couldn’t be sure. “I’m glad, too. Just be careful, you’re not exactly a spring chicken anymore.”

Dai kicked at his ankle gently from under the table and Tatsuki snickered, kicking back.

“Thanks for your concern, professor.” Dai said dryly. Tatsuki grinned down into his coffee. Dai paused, tongue snaking out to wet his lips and heartbeat kicking up just a notch. “So...about why I called.”

Tatsuki looked back up to meet his eyes, curiosity gleaming, but with a spark of mischief evident too. “Yes. If you’ve summoned me here to tell me about a sex dream, I’m calling the police.”

Dai choked on his coffee, sputtering and grabbing for a napkin as Tatsuki burst into laughter, clearly delighted with himself. They reached forward at the same time, both intent on grabbing a paper napkin from the small pile in the middle of the table, weighted down with a smooth, polished decorative stone against the wind. Their fingers brushed and their eyes met, and Dai felt like his body had been slammed with the power of a high-voltage electric shock. His mouth dropped open as he gasped, coffee spilling out and dripping down his chin, eyes rolling frantically, blinking rapidly as a strong image punched it’s way into his mind, into his chest.

_Tatsuki, resplendent in ceremonial dress, feet slowly moving across the floor of the haiden as his upper body moved fluidly from posture to posture, fingers of one hand, poised and curling perfectly to the pluck of the strings, fingers of the other wrapped tightly around the handle of the kagura suza, shaking it in time with his movements, with the music, practiced and precise. He was looking down, focused, eyelids lowered and face still - serene, beautiful, calm - but his eyes flickered up to meet Dai’s over the heads of the musicians, to share a secret smile._

Dai snapped back to reality as he felt the rough brush of the napkin against his chin. Tatsuki was looking intently at him, brow knitted with concern, leaning over the small table and wiping his face gently with one of the napkins. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, drowning out external sound, like thunder in his ears. Tatsuki dabbed the napkin gingerly at the corner of his lips, wiping away the tiniest drops. Dai breathed in, a deep, shuddery breath.

Tatsuki frowned, withdrawing his arm slowly and sinking back down into his seat. “Hey...what was that? Are you okay?”

Dai shook his head, still fighting to get his breath, his heart, his mind, under control. This had happened before, something like this. When he’d scooted just that little bit closer to Tatsuki for the final bow of Carnival on Ice a few years ago, missing him, his touch, so badly, so openly, he’d maneuvered himself carefully so he could brush their fingers together, for even the briefest kiss of Tatsuki’s skin against his own as they raised their arms. And he had gotten that, sure, and he’d been expecting the torrent, the storm, of emotions that would slam through every inch of him when it happened, but he hadn’t expected the rapidfire assault of strange images through his mind, foggy and dream-like, familiar yet alien, visions of Tatsuki but not Tatsuki, in the blink of an eye, a movie reel he didn’t remember or understand.

Tatsuki, but his hair was all wrong, lying on his side in the grass, in the garb of a Shinto priest, laughing with his eyes closed and his head thrown back. Tatsuki, but for some reason he was angry and crying and dressed for battle in armor befitting of a samurai, shoving Dai away and cursing him. Tatsuki, in the sweltering heat of a night club, but his makeup is done to the nines, dancing and swaying to the beat, elevated above the crowd on a table lit with fairy lights, silky long bell sleeves flowing around him, framing his face as he catches Dai’s eye and winks.

“We have to...I feel like I’m going crazy.” Dai murmured, bringing his shaking hands up to grab the solid, warm cup of coffee in front of him, trying to ground himself on something, anything. He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing, on figuring out what exactly to say. Dai’s eyes fluttered back open when Tatsuki cleared his throat. “Tatsuki...do you ever...get weird dreams? About me?”

Tatsuki raised one eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘weird’? My threat still stands.” Dai stared blankly at him, in no mood for the joking anymore. Tatsuki bit his lip and shrugged his shoulders up. “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“Like last night. It wasn’t the first time. It was _you_ but it wasn’t you, you were like...a priest and we were...we were…in a shrine, I think.” He frowned, realizing how stupid it all sounded out loud, feeling a tiny pang of regret for insisting on meeting up at all, “We had this like...magic string? And we were tying it to each other, and there was...it was something dangerous we were doing, I don’t really understand, but I think we died? I know it sounds dumb, but it’s all so vivid, and it’s happened before, I can go for months without having these dreams but the moment I’m even in the same _city_ as you it starts happening again, and I...please tell me this makes sense, that this is happening to you too, that I’m not losing my mind?”

Tatsuki’s face was unreadable. He was watching Dai carefully, but his face was blank, giving nothing away. Dai swallowed and pressed on, “The first time I had that dream...was in Sochi...after…” Now, Tatsuki flinched, but his expression didn’t change. Dai threw him a wince and a smile, a silent apology for bringing it up, and continued, “And then...just now...that’s happened before too. Sometimes, when I touch you, I just…see. See you. But it’s not you. It’s all these different yous, that feel so familiar but I can’t place them, and they’re all so real. And it gets more intense, when we’re together, when we’re near each other and I can’t be the only one, I can’t be, have you had even...even once?”

Tatsuki shook his head slowly and Dai felt his heart sink down into his stomach where it sat, stirring an uneasy and nauseous feeling in his gut. “What you’re suggesting defies logic, Daisuke. Shared dreams? And what...déjà vu? Of what, exactly? Different lives? These things have no basis in reality, no measurable scientific evidence, or merit. It’s impossible. I’m sorry.”

And to his credit, he looked sorry, looked at Dai almost pitiably as he wrapped his hands back around his own coffee cup and chewed briefly on his lower lip. “I don’t think you’re crazy. Maybe crazy about me, for whatever reason, and this may be your mind’s way of expressing your...passions. I’m charmed.” He cast Dai a tight, pained smile. “But there’s nothing I, nothing we, can do about that. You know that. We know that.”

Dai hummed and sat back in his chair, tugging his scarf up over his chin and folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, well. You could indulge me, just a little bit.” He grinned at the blank stare Tatsuki gave him in return. “With a walk. Before you go. Let’s just walk through the park a little, yeah?” He swallowed, trying to soothe the sick feeling in his stomach, to push aside the dreams for now, to get a little bit more time, just to spend it. “It really is nice to see you.”

Tatsuki rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair now with a laugh. The way his throat looked exposed, supple and inviting, as he rolled his neck and looked at Dai again with a tired smile, sent a different kind of jolt through Dai. But a familiar one all the same. It was a little unfair.

“Okay. Let’s go for a walk.”

* * *

Tatsuki fought an inner battle as they walked, hands shoved back in his coat pockets again, trying to stay engaged in conversation while he wrestled with his own thoughts. It was unfair, perhaps, to Dai, to lie to him when he was clearly so shaken, so confused he’d reached out like this for comfort, for confirmation, a fairly desperate attempt to make sense of whatever this was, happening to him. To them. Unbeknownst, still, to Dai. He bit his lip, nodding in agreement to Dai as he made small talk about how nice the air smelled, how pretty the changing of the leaves was. It was unfair, yes, but he wanted to figure this out first, himself, on his own.

It was unnerving, the very suggestion that there was something inexplicable being shared between them, between their minds. Different bodies, same mind. Different bodies, same heart. Irrational. The revelation that Dai had been having the same dreams, the same bizarre flashbacks to these inexplicable dreams, it had shaken him to his very core, and he was doing his very best to conceal that fact from Dai now. Just until he could have some more time to think about this. Analyze it. Find a logical explanation, for something so illogical, so unnatural.

He _had_ been dreaming, last night, just before Dai had phoned. Of a shrine, lit by the light of hundreds of candles. Of Dai, kneeling, dressed in decorative hitatare, so colorful they were nearly gaudy, theatrical, but still beautiful, covered in elaborate gold embroidery and detail, accented with sode and kote that seemed more aesthetic than functional, black as the night and embellished with gold thread and twists of golden rope. Hair longer than he’d ever known or seen Dai to have in his life, secured tight in a high ponytail, the ends spilling over his shoulder, spreading a little across his chest. Eyes, lined carefully with a deep black and a smear of rich, bright red. Eyes, staring into his with an intensity, a passion, that felt all too familiar, that he knew all too well. This elaborate, fantastical image of Dai, holding out before him, stretched over open palms, a strange, glowing red thread, saying ominous things about death and _they_. Who was they, anyway? The dreams had never really been clear on that.

He’d been lying awake, heart still hammering away in his chest, dream still fresh in his mind. Dai’s promise, whispered in his ear. Dai’s outstretched hand as he cried out, that same thread dangling down between them, stretched between their little fingers,a shining light in the dark void before it all went black. He’d been off guard and overwhelmed, and the coincidence of Dai calling him in that moment, he didn’t give himself much time to think, to adjust his voice and play it cool as he answered the phone. Luckily, he seemed to have managed alright on the fly. He couldn’t sleep very well, after that, after Dai had confirmed what he’d been fearing. That they were caught up in some sort of cosmic nonsense he couldn’t explain, couldn’t understand. It had given years of elaborate and confusing dreams a startling new angle to look at them from, one he wasn’t sure he even wanted.

“Hey, Macchi…”

The endearment cut through his thoughts, through his skin, down to the bone. Dai’s voice, soft and warm, like butter. The way it rolled so easily off his tongue made Tatsuki a little bitter. It was unfair, to call him like this without any warning, but Dai had never really been fair. Always so difficult. Tatsuki slowed to a stop alongside him, looking at him curiously.

He was standing with his head tilted back, looking up at the canopy of trees above them. His hair was in one of those nicer cuts, for once, thankfully, side-swept with an undercut, longer edges framing his face nicely, only a few streaks of that ridiculous bleach he seemed so fond of. He looked strangely regal, standing like that, and a wave of fondness washed over Tatsuki. What was it about this idiot, that could make him feel this way? Speaking of illogical things.

“This was really nice.” Dai said finally, turning his head to face him now, smiling, but with a visible sadness in his eyes. With things left unsaid. Things, Tatsuki knew, they still wouldn’t say now. No need to mar a nice day. “I’m sorry...I’m not very good at checking in.”

Tatsuki shrugged and smiled back, “You don’t need to explain to _me_ why it’s complicated to do so. I know. It’s alright.”

Dai’s mouth dropped open, like he wanted to retort, like Tatsuki hadn’t just guessed at what he really meant, but he snapped it back shut and grinned, sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “Yeah. Hey. I should let you go back to work, but, thank you. For coming out.”

He moved forward slightly, and so did Tatsuki, but they both hesitated, stalled mid-air, stilted and awkward, scanning each other’s faces for permission. Dai caved first, lurching forward and wrapping his arms up and around Tatsuki’s back, patting it awkwardly. Tatsuki let out a tiny “oof” and blinked, only mildly startled, letting his arms come up to embrace Dai back. He indulged himself for only a second, eyes fluttering closed as he breathed in the scent of Dai’s cologne, the way it clashed with the scent of his conditioner. The scent of his coat, tinged faintly with stale cigarette smoke from his nights out, no doubt, mixed with the soft and pleasant aroma of the same fabric conditioner he must have been using for over a decade now. A second was all he could afford. Anything longer was too dangerous. Anything longer was playing with fire. Foolish, when they’d both been burned, time and time again.

He pulled back first, holding Dai at arm’s length as Dai’s hands dropped to hold his elbows and gave them a brief squeeze before they both let go.

“It was my pleasure. Until next time, Daisuke. Take care, and good luck with your upcoming competitions.”

“Yeah. Thanks. You take care, too. I’ll see you in my dreams, I guess.” Dai laughed at his own joke and slapped at Tatsuki’s shoulder awkwardly, giving him a small salute with his other hand. “Until next time.” Then he turned on his heel and continued on, back towards wherever he needed to go, wherever he was staying. Tatsuki realized he hadn’t asked. He supposed it didn’t matter, really. This meeting should be enough. If either of them had any sense, it would be.

Tatsuki stood and watched him go, until he disappeared over the horizon, out of sight but not entirely out of mind. He was still standing there, lost in thought, clucking his tongue idly against his teeth, when he caught something strange out the corner of his eye. Something wispy yet solid, stark white and deep black, something made of smoke and dust, feathers and bone. He felt a deep chill run over him, gone as quickly as it came. He turned towards it slowly, squinting, trying to make it out in his peripheral. But it was gone, before he could get a proper look. He shook his head quickly, rubbing the sides of his face. It must be the lack of sleep.

“See you in my dreams,” He mumbled to himself, shaking his head and turning back the way they’d come, back towards the campus and back to work, trying best he could to push all ridiculous notions of shared dreams and red strings from his mind.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is my baby. Please, please leave me some love if you liked it, this tag isn't very active and I crave validation. I'm doing extensive historical research on this one - not joking, I have a bibliography - to keep everything as accurate as possible even though we're delving hard into magical realism and fantasy elements. There are exceptions I'm hand-waving for selfish, aesthetic reasons, but if you catch anything inaccurate please let me know and I will amend it!
> 
> Big, big thanks to [ryku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rkyu/pseuds/rkyu) and [yummysubculture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yummysubculture/pseuds/yummysubculture) for lending me their knowledge and listening to me whine - go check out Yummy's [Yuzusho Onmyoji AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172394), which also has it's own bibliography, it's fantastic. Big thanks also to everyone in KSSC for the cheerleading, encouragement, support, and kind words. Big thanks to [halfjoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfjoker) for the beta and multiple KSSCers for helping me with research. My true nature as a cheesecake is revealed. I hope you still like me after all this cheese. 
> 
> Please note that the rating is going to go up, I will adjust it when that chapter comes. I will be locking this after a little while, and unlocking temporarily for each update. Thank you for reading. <3 If you'd like you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cakeandkuyashii) for updates.
> 
> *If you would like a little glossary in the footnotes of the Japanese words used, let me know and I will add it here.
> 
> ENORMOUS thanks to [Superlinh2701](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superlinh2701/) for the gorgeous fanart ;; Thank you so much...I'm so honored. <3 See more of her beautiful art at the end of Chapter 4.


	2. Fangs, Pearls

_She held her hands and told you to wonder_  
_How you'd fit in the land if the waves held you under_  
_Don't forget the way she pushed the water inside_  
_Waded through the spirits like a flood on the floor_  
_Don't forget, forget, don't forget, forget_  
_Don't forget, forget, don't forget, forget_  
  
_I'll miss keepin' you_  
_I hope you're sleepin' too_  
_I hope you're..._  
-Purity Ring, Flood on the Floor

I wanted pomegranates—  
I wanted darkness,  
I wanted him.  
So I grabbed my king and ran away  
to a land of death,  
where I reigned and people whispered  
that I’d been dragged.  
\- Daniella Michalleni, “Persephone Speaks”

##  **SEPARATE**

####  **II.FANGS, PEARLS**

_The candles were burning low as Daisuke bent to kiss the foreheads of his sleeping children. A voice, beautiful and familiar, from behind him._

_"You’re not taking your son with you tonight?”_  
  
_He turned to face the woman before him, his wife, dressed for bed, long, black hair down and spilling over her shoulders, one eyebrow raised, questioning, but there was a smile playing on her lips. She wasn’t angry. He leaned in and kissed her forehead as well._

_“Not tonight. Just the men, tonight.” He grabbed his hat and his koshimono from their place beside the door. “I’ll be back before sunrise.”_

_"Come back to me safely.” Her smile was gentle, warm - it promised comfort, it promised home._

_The night was dark and cool, the air hitting his skin with a bite. The ocean glimmered black against the rocky shore, underneath the blanket of stars. He smiled and turned to head further inland, towards the torch lights of his fellow usho and the cries of the cormorants. Towards the village, towards the place where the river fed into the sea, where they would launch their boats and guide the birds to collect their fish for the night._

_On the boat now, time passing suddenly, in the blink of an eye. The fire swung in its cage, over the birds in the water as they dove, Daisuke keeping a careful, practiced grip on his end of the strings tied around their necks. His companion steered their boat with an equally honed skill. He kept his trained eyes scanning the water, scanning the birds, looking for signs they’d caught a big fish he’d need to pull them in for, and retrieve._

_Something flickered, in the far edges of the firelight, on the corners of his vision. Something white, iridescent, something fast. Dai frowned, squinting, trying to keep one eye on the birds and one eye on the water, for any ripples breaking the surface. He’d never seen something that color, that size, before. Especially at night. What could it be? It was far too big for any of the birds to catch. It could be a threat to them. He narrowed his eyes, feeling a fierce need to protect his flock, raised and trained by his hand over years and years._

_A visible, audible splash this time - and a giant white fantail, the source, shimmering like a pearl, sending the birds into a frenzy. Daisuke cursed and pulled at the strings, urging the birds back to the boat, a cacophony of their distinctive grunting calls breaking the relative silence of the night, the calm of the river. One by one, as quickly as he could, he lifted the birds on board, eyes still scanning the waters for any signs of the creature. As he lifted the last bird up and over the edge, something rippled, something emerging from the water._

_A human face, startled and curious, eyes big and round and curious and fully black, black as the ocean with its reflection of stars, glimmering at him in the firelight the way the ocean had winked as he’d left his home that night. Skin, pale in the glow, shimmering, hair long and black and wet. Lips, human and pink and slightly parted, exposing two rows of fine, needle-like teeth. Daisuke clutched the cormorant tightly against his chest as he stumbled backwards in shock, falling down into the bottom of the boat and shouting for his steersman. But by the time the other man made it to the edge to peer over the side of the boat, the creature was gone._

_Another blur, and it’s another night. Daisuke’s son is steering, the other fisherman is gone. Daisuke clutched the strings tightly in his hand, tense, searching the water, hypervigilant. His heart had taken hours to stop pounding in his chest after the first sighting, but still, he felt a pull. An undeniable urge, to see it again. If it really was the sort of creature he expected...the other usho couldn’t know. No one could know. His eyes flickered over to glance at his son briefly - he could trust his son, he knew. But no one else. Not if it were truly…_

_His head jerked towards the sound of the water breaking, splashing. His cormorants were squawking again in their guttural tone, startled and confused. He guided them to the side, this time, away from the creature but not into the boat, staring determinedly at the ripples where it had broken the surface, waiting. He didn’t have to wait long before the top of a human head emerged, a crown of jet black hair, rising just until two shiny black eyes peered above the water. It made no move toward the birds, just stared at Daisuke, as he ushered them closer to the boat and tried his best to soothe them without pulling them in, keeping his eyes trained on it, staring back, trying not to get lost in its gaze._

_The rowing stilled and Daisuke glanced back at his son again, holding one finger to his lips to motion him to stay silent. He looked back towards the creature - its whole head was visible now, and more, a human neck, shoulders, the top of a human chest, collarbones peeking out above the water, droplets forming and running down off the slope of them. Daisuke’s breath caught in his throat. It was unnatural. It was frightening. It was captivating. It was beautiful. It tilted its head and moved closer, hesitantly._

_Daisuke kept his eyes on it as he tied the strings of the birds to the post holding the fire, scooting forward as he crouched with an equal hesitation. The creature came closer, until Daisuke knew if he reached out he could touch it, feel its hair, would it be silky? Or place a trembling hand on its cheek, what would its skin feel like, to his touch? Would it be soft, supple? Or hard, scaly, even though none showed, there? He swallowed and nodded at it. It tilted its head again, as if waiting for him to speak._

_“Ningyo?” He asked, cringing at the way his voice shook._

_He stumbled back a little as a the creature giggled, then smiled, a flash of its needle-like teeth in the firelight. “Tatsuki,” It said, and its voice was beautiful, too, like a whisper of bells. It lifted one hand up from the water, and Daisuke noticed the delicate webs between its fingers, the way its fingertips pointed into small, yellow-hued claws. It tapped its own chest, and said it again. “Tatsuki.”_

_Daisuke couldn’t help but smile, no matter how unnerved he felt, something was still tugging at him, putting him strangely more at ease with the interaction, with the bizarre and beautiful creature in the river before him, one he’d thought only existed in stories until now. “Tatsuki.” He repeated with a firm nod. “Okay.”_

_Tatsuki lifted its...his...hand in the air, fingers curling into his palm in a moment of hesitation before it reached out towards Daisuke, pointing with one slender, delicate finger. “You?”_

_“Daisuke,” He breathed, tapping his palm against his chest. “I’m Daisuke.”_

_Time swirled and blurred together again, and now it’s later, many nights later. Tatsuki leaned on the side of the boat, half out of the water. His arms were folded, his head resting atop them. His tail, iridescent, especially in the orange glow of the fire, was stretched out to the side, swishing idly back and forth, the smaller fans swirling in the self-made currents. His gaze, fond and warm - somehow - was firmly on Daisuke._

_Daisuke sat across from where Tatsuki was perched, and stretched his legs out, grinning. “You’re scaring the fish.”_

_Tatsuki snorted into his elbow, slapping his tail against the water purposefully. “At least I’m not scaring the birds anymore.”_

* * *

Daisuke woke up with a jolt, legs tangled in the hotel sheets, sweat beading and running down his forehead. He slapped one hand against his face, rubbing it, then pressing hard in a circle over his temple. That mermaid dream again. Merman. Ningyo. Whatever. He’d seen it before. But the last scene. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against them. That was new. Was it because they’d had coffee? Had seeing Tatsuki spurred whatever was doing this to his mind into overdrive? He let out a small sigh, remembering Tatsuki’s guesses at what this was. _“This may be your mind’s way of expressing your...passions. I’m charmed.”_ Brat…

He nearly jumped a foot off the bed when his phone rang beside him. His hand clawed at the sheets, scrambled to get a grip on the vibrating phone, eyes bulging a little at the name lighting up on the screen, accompanied by one of the numerous selfies he could never bring himself to delete, sent during happier times. _Tatsuki_. His fingers fumbled to unlock the screen in their haste, missing the code twice before finally swiping it open. He felt strangely breathless as he pressed it to his ear.

“Tatsuki?” He mumbled, peering at the bedside clock. 2:17 a.m.

A soft hum of affirmation, then a few beats of silence.

“You know...you look surprisingly good in a straw skirt.”

Dai immediately sat upright, head spinning, visions of ningyo and cormorants still swimming through his waking mind, clouding his thoughts. “Ehh? How did you...you said you didn’t get the dreams?”

A tiny, almost guilty, sigh on the other end of the line. “I lied. I’m sorry.”

Dai knew his jaw was hanging open as he stared blankly at the hotel wall in front of him, processing Tatsuki’s confession. This changed everything. “How long?”

“Since I first saw you.” Tatsuki’s voice was small, and soft, but the words hit Dai as loud as a clap of thunder.

“Macchi…” Dai whispered back, stunned, and reeling. “This is huge. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.” And there it was, that hint of fluster, of annoyance, the one that could drive Dai wild just as much as it could drive him crazy. “I thought it was just me, all this time. It was progressive. It wasn’t always this...vivid. This strong. After you told me...I wanted to figure it out on my own, before telling you. I needed it to make sense, first. Do you understand?”  
  
Dai let out a heavy sigh and flopped back down onto the bed, letting his free arm extend out to the side. “Do I understand what, you? Good question. I don’t know. Better than you probably like, I bet.” He rolled his eyes at the sound of Tatsuki’s irritated “tch” on the other side of the phone. “I’m sorry. Let’s not fight. Please. I don’t understand but I want to figure this out. Whatever this is. These dreams. The visions, or whatever they are. It’s weird, right?”

“Ohh, congratulations Daisuke Takahashi! You have, once again, won the award for biggest understatement of the year!” Tatsuki’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Dai groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what I mean.” He relaxed a little, hand falling to idly rub his chest and smiling in spite of himself when he could hear Tatsuki trying to suppress a little snort of laughter and failing. “Maybe we should meet up again. My flight isn’t until tonight. Pretty late one.”

Tatsuki hummed again, voice softening. “We could go to the shore.”

Something fluttered in Dai’s stomach. Butterflies, or unease. Maybe uneasy butterflies. He wasn’t sure.

“That shore?”  
  
“Mm.”

“You know we live on an island, right? It’s all shores. How do we know which one? If it’s even a real place?” Dai’s apprehensions felt like they were bubbling up and spilling out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The dreams were wild enough. What Tatsuki was suggesting…

“Yes, I’m aware that we live on an island.” He sounded a little annoyed again. “You’ll have to trust me on this one. Kamakura. I have a feeling...I know that sounds ridiculous, so don’t point it out. Besides, last time I had a...similar dream, I got curious and did some research.”

“Of course you did.” Dai couldn’t hold back a grin. “Fine, then. Kamakura. Meet you at the train?”

The nervous feeling hadn’t left his stomach. It stirred, and stirred. What would they do, if they found that shore? _Their_ shore? What would that mean, if it were a real place? A shiver ran through him, a chill starting from the tips of his hair and running down his entire body, to his ends of his toes. How deep was this, really?

“Yes, that sounds good. I have some work to do. I imagine you may have that filming you mentioned? Let’s meet in the afternoon. Two?”

“Two. See you then.” Dai moved the hand on his chest down to rub at his stomach, as if the motion could settle the brewing storm of apprehension there.

“Okay.” There was a tiny little intake of breath, a pause, like Tatsuki wasn’t sure if he should say what he wanted to next, and Dai tried not to think about how much he could tell about Tatsuki from something so small and specific and intimate as the way he breathed. “Daisuke…”

That was a little unfair. Dai bit his lip and rolled over onto his side, pressing his hand more firmly against his abdomen. Tatsuki’s voice was softening as he got sleepier, and the way he’d breathed his name out, rolling it off his tongue like a purr, had him suddenly feeling much more awake than he’d like to be, right now, alone in his hotel room after 2 in the morning. “Yeah?” His voice came out a little huskier than he’d expected, making him wince, but really, that was Tatsuki’s fault in the first place.

“Good night.” An innocent whisper.

Dai knew that Tatsuki’s lips were curling up at the edges, smug. He could see it in his mind’s eye as clear as day. He knew he shouldn’t think beyond that, either, but he found himself wondering if his hair was fanning out against his pillow, framing his face. If he was wearing that old white t-shirt he liked to sleep in, with the time-worn, faded and chipped drawing of two cats on the front. He brought his hand back up to rub his eyes, hard, to stop his brain from wandering down the path of what Tatsuki may or may not be wearing.

“Good night.” He murmured back, and waited to hear the call disconnect before sliding his own phone back underneath the pillow.

* * *

Dai hadn’t considered the difficulties of juggling two speciality iced coffees and his luggage when he’d had the idea to buy one for Tatsuki as a surprise. He also hadn’t considered the possibility that greeted him when he arrived on the platform, after depositing his luggage safely in a station coin locker, shades firmly on, smile wide and a plastic cup of Starbucks with their names scrawled on in each hand. The possibility that Tatsuki, of course, would already be holding a vended coffee, looking at Dai with two raised eyebrows and a bemused smile. Dai shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and motioned towards the nearby bench. He didn’t mind. Seeing that smile was worth at _least_ the price of a Starbucks.

He tucked his face into his scarf to hide his reddening cheeks when Tatsuki tossed the not-entirely-empty can he was already holding in the nearest bin so he could take the iced coffee Dai had brought him instead.

“Thank you.” Tatsuki started, smiling down at his lap as he took a sip of the coffee, “So...did you dream any more last night?”

Dai shook his head. “You?” He risked a lingering glance at Tatsuki, though he knew he shouldn’t look so long. Tatsuki was wearing the same coat, but a different scarf - tricolored, this one, lines of black and burgundy and grey. The coat was buttoned up today, but there were black jeans and comfortable sneakers, a more casual look. Dai wondered if he’d been home to change first. He wondered if that mattered.

“No. So I suppose we’ve established that we’re experiencing some sort of shared dreaming phenomenon. And that it only happens when we’re in the vicinity of one another. I presume you see your dreams from...your perspective.” Tatsuki summarized, his clipped tone betraying how annoyed he was to be giving this whole thing any merit at all. Dai nodded so he could continue. “What we don’t know is how, let alone why, and where these images are coming from. Or what they mean.”

Dai hummed and untucked his chin from its hiding place in his scarf so he could bring his coffee straw up to his lips for another drink. “What about the touches?”

Tatsuki visibly bristled, clearing his throat and glancing sideways at Dai. “I don’t know. I would have put it down to some strange mechanism of my own mind before, but if you’ve been getting them too, then...I really don’t know.”

A sly grin spread slowly across Dai’s face, and Tatsuki was glaring at him before he even opened his mouth. “So that thing you said yesterday, about my mind expressing my passions in weird ways, were you actually talking about yourself? Macchi, I’m flattered.”

He laughed even as Tatsuki scowled and knocked him in the side with his elbow, cheeks turning slightly pink. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head. It’s big enough.”

A comfortable silence settled between them for a few moments, both idly sipping their coffees, shuffling their feet, before Dai piped up again, “Maybe we should test it. The touching thing.”  
  
Tatsuki rolled his eyes and motioned to his own elbow, the one he’d recently jabbed into Dai’s side. “We just did. You’re welcome.”

“Funny guy.” Dai said dryly, holding up one hand to wiggle his fingers at Tatsuki. “We didn’t touch like, skin-to-skin, though. Maybe that’s a requirement. Maybe we should test it. Just while we’re waiting here anyway. Might as well.”

Tatsuki raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, amused. “You must be really hard up. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s for science.” Dai protested, ignoring the barbed jab and nudging Tatsuki’s knee with his own as he waved his hand back and forth in the air. “Honest.”

“Fine,” Tatsuki heaved an exaggerated sigh and held up his hand, “I think we’ve established that happens at random. But go ahead.”

Dai grinned, pleased with his victory, and moved his hand forward to press it against Tatsuki’s. But something caught him, made his palm freeze a centimeter away. Maybe it was the way Tatsuki’s fingers twitched, the way his posture stiffened. Maybe it was the way his own heart suddenly kicked against the cage of his ribs. Maybe it was the way the air felt between their palms - pressurized, charged and electric. Maybe it was the realization he didn’t know _how_ he should touch Tatsuki - a quick brush of the fingertips, a carefully platonic palm-to-palm, a bold interlocking of their fingers? Maybe it was the sudden fear that something would actually happen, something more than his simple goal, his transparent excuse to touch. That his eyes would roll back and a new confusing and unexplained vision of another Tatsuki would flash through his mind. It gave him pause, long enough to realize how stupid they must look to passerby, sitting with their hands up and hovering in the air, long enough to make his face feel hot again.

“Fuck it,” Dai mumbled, mostly to himself, and went for a mixture of all three considered options, pressing his palm to Tatsuki’s and letting his fingers brush slightly forward so their fingertips were laced together. Tatsuki inhaled sharply, and their fingers twitched together as a shiver ran through Dai. But nothing happened. No eyes rolling back, no gasps, no visions flitting before their eyes. Nothing happened, except Tatsuki looked a little flustered as he pulled his hand away. Nothing happened, but Dai’s heart rate still took a couple minutes to calm down.  

* * *

The train was full enough that they couldn’t talk again until they were in Kamakura. And they didn’t talk again - not until they were in the back of a taxi, headed for whatever specific rocky shore Tatsuki had found in his searches, one complete with the small attraction of a historic fisherman’s hut. Hearing that sent chills through Dai that he didn’t understand. Hearing it was still lived in didn’t do anything to quell his unease. Apparently it wasn’t much of an attraction, Tatsuki explained to him, nothing you could go inside of, just a house with a dedicated plaque outside of it, with a beautiful coastal view, but the possibilities of what it could mean, if it was that house, the one from the dreams, set his teeth on edge.

The taxi left them off at the closest village to their destination. One with a wide strip of river running through it. Dai swallowed, nervous, and glanced sideways at Tatsuki as they started to walk. Tatsuki’s face was carrying tension - forehead creased and jaw set, eyes slightly narrowed. Dai resisted the urge to reach out and use his thumb to smooth away the wrinkles it was causing. Barely.

“Do you feel anything?” Tatsuki asked softly as they walked, breaking the silence.

“Not really.” Dai said, looking down at his shoes and kicking some stray pebbles as they ambled towards the shore. “I don’t um. Everything’s real modern now, huh? I don’t hear any birds. Maybe they don’t do ukai, here, anymore. Or ever.”

“Mmm. It’s a dying practice.” Tatsuki fiddled with his scarf, wrapping it around his neck as they got closer to the beach, the ocean chill making itself known on the breeze. “There are only thirteen places in Japan where it’s still used as a fishing method. Mostly for tourism. It doesn’t mean it was never here.” He hesitated, gnawing on his bottom lip for a second before adding, “I did notice we didn’t need any directions to the shore. What do you think that means?”

Dai shrugged, “I don’t think it means anything. It’s kinda obvious anyway, right? Where the shore is.”

“I guess you’re right.” Tatsuki admitted with a small smile, a short laugh. “I’m overthinking this.”

“No surprises there.” Dai teased as they rounded the corner to the place where the sea met the jutting black rocks of the land, where a tiny shore stretched out to the right into what almost resembled a cove, and where a home Dai had seen before in his dreams sat, the same as it had for decades upon decades, the only sign of change a metal sign posted a respectable amount away from the door, as not to disturb the residents.

Dai’s heart felt like it was going to slam out of his chest. He stumbled, arm flailing out to grab weakly for Tatsuki, to grip something, anything, solid as a vision hit him clear as day.

_She’s angry, furious. Her face is a mask of rage, red with tears streaking her cheeks as she shoves him, again, and again, hard pushes to his chest._

_“How could you?! How could you?!” Her hands, beating at his chest, tearing at his kimono, pulling violently at the neck to expose the bruised, bitten flesh on his collarbone - black and purple and red, bizarre and haphazard marks made by sharp, pointed teeth, many teeth, inhuman teeth. The hint of angry, raised skin, trails of claws, over the top of his shoulder. Her hands fly to her mouth as she lets out a horrified gasp, a shaking cry. “I can’t forgive you...I won’t forgive you…”_

“Daisuke...Daisuke!”

Tatsuki’s voice cut through the haze, through the fog, through the image of tearful brown eyes and fang-bruised flesh. Tatsuki’s face came into view, close, so close, fraught now with concern instead of tension. Dai blinked, slowly, and opened his mouth to try and speak but then Tatsuki blinked too, and for a split second, for an instant, his eyes were all black. Dai staggered back, pulling Tatsuki along with him, only registering then that he had a vice grip on the arm of Tatsuki’s coat.

Their foreheads knocked together in the stumble and Tatsuki pulled away, cursing, hands flying from Dai’s shoulders up to rub his own head. Dai mumbled an apology, his own hand moving in slow motion to touch his forehead gingerly, wincing at the tenderness there. He glanced back towards the historic house, a shiver running through him, but no more strange visions came. It was just a house.

“Are you okay?” Tatsuki sighed, dropping his hands back to his sides.

“Yeah...yeah...sorry.” Dai muttered, glancing apologetically at Tatsuki, “Is your head okay?”

“I’m fine.” Tatsuki took a step towards Dai, frowning slightly. “Did you…”

 “Yeah. That was, uh. That was new.” Dai took a step towards Tatsuki in return, reaching out to smooth at the arm of his coat, at the wrinkled space where he’d clenched his fingers into the fabric. “I think she found out about us.”  
  
“Who?” Tatsuki’s furrowed his brow.  
  
“My wife.” Dai felt a pang of guilt, but he didn't know why. These were dreams, right?

“Wife? I don’t know why I’m surprised.” Tatsuki said flatly, motioning towards the shore with his head as Dai scowled at him, “Let's keep going.”

They gave the tiny house a wide berth, but Dai paused for a moment, lingered, staring at it before it was time to turn their backs to it. Tatsuki noticed, pausing alongside him and giving him a questioning glance. _Do you want to go closer?_

Dai wasn’t sure if the curtain in the window twitched or if it were just a trick of the shadows, but either way he gave Tatsuki a tight, bitter smile and a single, firm shake of his head. This was close enough.

They continued their stroll in silence, until they were standing on the rocky shore, all the way down the little hill and across the stony beach, until they’d reached the place where a small but sheer cliff face jutted up from the beach, blocking their path from continuing any further, sheltering the tiny cove that could only be reached by water. Tatsuki wrapped his arms around himself and stepped closer to the water, his face unreadable as he gazed out over the waves lapping gently at the shore. Dai watched his back, quietly, contemplatively, considering. He shrugged his coat off his shoulders, laying it down over the bed of stones, inspiration from dreams, curious if Tatsuki had had _those_ dreams too.

The blush that colored Tatsuki’s cheeks bright pink when he turned back around was all the answer Dai needed, but he grinned cheekily and pushed anyway.

“So...you ever get that one dream?” Dai prodded as he motioned with one arm to his laid-out coat, for Tatsuki to have a seat.

“Yes, I know the one.” Tatsuki said quickly, clearing his throat, a sign to stop the conversation there. He was visibly flustered and it made Dai’s grin stretch even wider.  

_Standing, bare, ankle deep in the tide before Tatsuki, so he could study, so he could copy. Tatsuki, with legs, but legless, unable to stand, shaking like a baby deer, limbs too alien to walk. Tatsuki laughing, like bells, arms slung around Daisuke’s neck and mouth cozy against the crook as he lifted him, carried him from the water, to the shore, laid him down gently on the blanket of his laid out kimono. His hand, cupping Tatsuki’s face, thumb tracing his jaw, as he gasped, as he whined, all-black eyes wide, reflexive tears crystalizing, forming pearls that slid off his cheeks and clinked together as they fell. His lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the part of Tatsuki’s hair, to the corners of his eyes, as he stilled, slowed, let him adjust to the feel, murmuring words of comfort to help ease him through the initial pain._

_Tatsuki, adjusted and unburdened, cheeks flushed and cries louder, unrestrained, teeth at Daisuke’s neck, Daisuke’s collarbone, claws dragging up Daisuke’s back, digging into his shoulders. Tatsuki, jaw slack and eyes closed tight, gasping out his name. Tatsuki, reaching up and tugging Daisuke’s hair free from its messily kept half-bun, so he could run his fingers through it as he pulled their faces, their mouths, together. Daisuke, all tongue, and lips, and teeth, up his chest, up his neck, tasting the sweat, the salt, the sea, breathing his name out in return, raspy and hot whispers against his skin, bodies combined and quaking._

They sat together, on the laid out coat, Tatsuki drawing his knees up, arms hooked loosely around them, while Dai leaned back on his hands to prop himself up, both staring out at the sea.

Eventually, Tatsuki spoke, questioning out loud, voice soft and a little bit lost, “What is this? What’s happening to us?”

Dai shrugged, pushing himself off his hands to lean forward and draw his knees up as well. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

Tatsuki let out a tiny hum, let a beat of silence pass. He looked down at his feet, at his own interlocked hands, before turning his head to face Dai.

“Stay tonight.”

Dai’s head whipped to the side, probably too fast, but right now he didn’t care.

“What?!”

“For science,” Tatsuki dryly parroted his own words back at him, shrugging and daring a lopsided smile. “I don’t know. I just think we should figure this out. What it all means.”

“Okay,” Daisuke said, hand already fishing out his phone, fingers already swiping at the required keys, firing up the right apps and texting the important people as he added, “I’ll cancel my flight.”

“Is that really okay?” Tatsuki asked, softly, “You have training, right?”

Dai cast him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I have time. And I can make time, anyway. You- this is important.” He noticed the way Tatsuki’s face twitched as he registered the little slip of the ‘you’. Dai decided, boldly, to try his luck just a little farther. “I can always make time for you.”

“Stop it, please.” Tatsuki mumbled, looking away towards the sea again and trying to keep a stern expression, but the blush was creeping back into his cheeks, if it had ever really left.

The wind off the water was strong, steady, and cold, whipping strands of Tatsuki’s hair around his face, raising goosebumps on Dai’s bare arms. He hugged his knees a little closer to his chest, let a shiver run through him. It was overcast, today, grey skies and a constantly looming threat of rain, but it was still light out, despite being filtered through storm clouds.

He was sure he’d never been here before, not to this little out of the way rocky beach, with the historic hut nearby. Kamakura, sure, to the much more popular sandy beaches, who hadn’t? But here, here, where he’d never been before, here felt familiar, in a way that made him feel deeply unsettled. The sting of the wind, the cries of the shore birds circling overhead, the distinctive smell of the sea. The way, he knew, without having to take off his shoes and socks, exactly how the rocks here would feel between his toes. The way, he knew, without being able to see it from here, about the little cove, the one you could only reach by the water, the one where his back once scraped up against the rocks jutting out from the water, as Tatsuki pressed up against him, as Tatsuki encircled him with his tail, cushioning, protecting, against the jagged rock, holding him close, holding him afloat.

In a dream. A dream. Just a dream, with weirdly specific geographical knowledge. Sure. That was okay. Didn’t make sense, but it was okay. They could take a few days. Figure this out. His eyes roamed slowly over Tatsuki’s face, studying, appreciating. Retirement seemed to be good for him. He looked healthy, rested. Happy. Content. Dai bit his lip, bit back a stupid question. This was nice, just sitting here like this, he didn’t want to ruin it.

Luckily, Tatsuki spoke then, turning his head to face Dai again, “We should head back to my place before it gets dark. Grab some dinner on the way.”

Dai blinked, caught totally off guard, and stammered out his agreement after a visible and awkward pause, much to Tatsuki’s amusement. He hadn’t thought he meant stay _with_ him. And dinner? He knew, knew it wasn’t, but it sounded enough like a date he knew his face was turning red, so he turned away hurriedly from Tatsuki as they stood up and he gathered up his coat, wishing he could pull his scarf all the way up over his nose and his cheeks as he shrugged his arms back into the sleeves, squirming internally and externally under the scrutiny of Tatsuki’s one raised brow and the hint of a smile in one corner of his lips.

He kept his head down as they started to walk back the way they’d came, hiding his still burning cheeks, so he didn’t notice the hunched, elderly figure descending the rocky slope, didn’t stop until Tatsuki mumbled his name and tugged firmly at his elbow. Dai stopped in his tracks and looked up, feeling a creeping escalation of unease as the old woman approached. He could feel the tension in Tatsuki’s arm, from the way his fingers were clenched, still gripping his elbow, with just enough pressure to convey his own nervousness. She was old, impossibly old, shuffling towards the pair with purpose, back severely hunched and face a map of folded skin between deeply set wrinkles. She was dressed traditionally, robes old and hemmed to accommodate her shrunken height, long white hair pulled up in a tight bun. As she neared them, the stream of tears down her cheeks became visible, the sound of her quiet weeping reached their ears.

Tatsuki’s breath came out in a slow hiss, a tense whisper from behind Dai as he squeezed his elbow tighter, “I don’t like this.”   

Dai stepped more firmly in front of him, shielding him instinctively as the old woman slowed to a stop before them, tears still running down her face.

“Grandmother, why are you crying?” Dai asked warily, a fierce protectiveness suddenly blooming in his chest. He extended the arm Tatsuki was still clutching, in front of him still, in a defensive gesture, but carefully enough that he didn’t dislodge Tatsuki’s grip.

But she ignored Dai, her eyes trained on Tatsuki, an apologetic smile curving her lips as she extended her hands towards him, holding something tightly in one palm.

Tatsuki and Dai exchanged a nervous glance as he slowly extended his free hand to take it.

“Forgive me.” She said simply, opening her hand to drop a small and beautifully polished seashell, strung through an old piece of wire, into Tatsuki’s waiting hand. His fingers curled around it reflexively and he gasped, eyes rolling back as his fingers went slack on Dai’s elbow, as his hand fell and he staggered backwards, gripped with a strong vision.

“Tatsuki!” Dai cried out in alarm, turning to grab him, to catch him before he could stumble or fall, but the feel of fingers against his face, soft and cold and wrinkled, stopped him in his tracks.

He turned his face slowly back to the old woman, eyes wide. Tatsuki cursed and regained his balance behind him, a small reassurance to his ears, as the woman smiled at him through her tears, fingers gently stroking his cheek.

“You were never mine, were you?” She wondered aloud, pressing her palm more firmly to his face.

And for a few moments, transforming in the blink of an eye, there she stood before him, the woman from his dreams. Young and beautiful, skin smooth, robes unaltered and hair flowing long and black over her shoulders. A sad smile on her face and a haunted look in her eyes.

“Kiku…” A name Dai didn't know he knew fell, whispered, from his lips. His hand flew up to encircle her wrist, gently, delicately. A torrent of emotion flooded him, made his chest tight and his heart pound wildly.

She smiled, nodded, and drew her hand back and out from Dai's touch - and she was small, again, small and hunched and old, with the same tortured look in her eyes, behind her smile. Tatsuki stepped closer to him, firmly behind him, one hand holding the seashell tightly in his fist and against his chest - the other, moving now to clutch, protectively, possessively, at Dai's hip. He was trembling, fingers shaking along with his breath.

She looked back and forth between them, between the silent, furious Tatsuki and the silent, bewildered Daisuke, tears drying now on her cheeks, and nodded again, still smiling. “Please, be happy,” she said, earnestly, like a blessing, a wish. She glanced over their shoulders now, and her smile faded. “They’ll come now. You should go. Quickly.”

She started to walk, past them both and towards the shore, even as two loud claps, like thunder, but a thunder made of screams, rang out from behind them. The wind picked up suddenly, howling across the shore with a new, heavier intensity. They turned, startled, confused, afraid, just in time to see the two identical swirls of black smoke and feathers forming over the sea, equidistant from each other and close to the shore. The swirls grew in size, grew taller, until they fell away, dissipated, revealing two terrifying creatures hovering over the water. Their tattered, shredded robes were long and black, wings made of bleached white bone stuck out from their backs, haphazardly hanging black feathers scattered sparsely along the frame. They were hooded, wearing what looked like masks, made of animal skulls, both with unnatural and long antler-like horns extending from their heads. One of them raised its arm as Kiku approached, pointing a bony hand, a curved, yellowed talon like finger at her.

Dai and Tatsuki stood frozen, horrified, captivated, until Tatsuki made a garbled, confused noise and Dai's paralysis broke, survival instinct kicking in, and he started to pull at Tatsuki's arm, dragging him backwards.

“Come on…come on come on come on, let's go, let's _go_.” He urged, turning with Tatsuki to run, run, run. They scrambled, frantically, up the rocky slope. Dai tripped over his own feet, hands flying out to catch himself, but he felt Tatsuki’s arms pull him back, yanking at his waist and his upper arm, steady him upright. So his hand found its way to Tatsuki's without thinking, without questioning, and they ran, together. Dai looked back only once, only for an instant, only long enough to see both creatures were now pointing at Kiku, who stood centered between them on the shore, calm, unafraid. Only long enough for her name to fall from his lips again, a stunned mumble, only long enough to catch the little flicker of pain in Tatsuki's eyes when it did.

He didn't look back, after that, and neither did Tatsuki. They just ran, ran up the shore, ran past the tiny house, ran until they could see the edges of the village again, chests heaving, legs and lungs burning. Tatsuki squeezed his hand before he let it go, signalling Dai to slow down, to try and look normal, before anyone could see them properly. They walked in silence until they reached the riverbank, both flushed and trying to get their breathing under control, both with their heads spinning and hearts pounding.

“What the fuck.” Dai whispered first, letting out a nervous, delirious little laugh.

“We should go. Keep going. Go back. Now.” Tatsuki muttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to try and center himself before fishing his phone out from his pocket to order a taxi. 

* * *

They didn’t speak again until they were safely on the train bound for Tokyo. It was emptier, this time, empty enough they could talk softly, unnoticed, unbothered, and without bothering anyone else. Tatsuki’s hand delved deep down into his coat pocket, searching for the seashell he’d shoved away when they’d started to run. His eyes scanned Dai’s face, studying, observing. Dai was visibly shaken, his eyes still stretched wide, staring vacantly at something Tatsuki couldn’t see. Maybe lost in memories, maybe suffering flashbacks, it was hard to tell. He was leaning on his elbows, elbows squarely on his knees and hands folded together and up by his face, so he could gnaw, fidget, with his thumbs.

Tatsuki’s fingers closed around the shell, and he pulled it out to hold in front of him, still tightly in his fist, clearing his throat and wondering just where to start.

“I don’t like the implications,” He decided on, opening his fist to start transferring the shell from palm to palm. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Dai laughed, again, a tiny and broken sound, like the one he’d made by the riverbank, shaking his head slowly. “Man, forget implications, I think we’re past _implications_.” He turned his head to look at Tatsuki, eyes trailing from the shell up to his face, meeting his gaze and holding it. Tatsuki felt a tiny shiver run through him at the tormented look in them.

“These aren’t dreams, are they?” Dai continued, staring unflinchingly, “They’re memories.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tatsuki whispered, but his voice trembled, and his fingers clenched tightly over the very real seashell in his hand again..

“Yeah, and so were those.... _things_ we saw, you saw them too, right? Over the water. But they were real. This is real. So those...dreams, those memories...those are real, too.” Dai wet his lips, his gaze softening. “We need to start there. Accepting that.”  
  
“You’re asking a lot, you know?” Tatsuki nearly hissed, a flash of anger spiking through his veins, across his features, making Dai recoil slightly. “You want me to just accept all these things that inherently challenge my perception of reality, my world view, my beliefs, things I’ve held as evident truths for years...it’s not that simple. If what you’re saying, if that’s true, then I have to reassess _everything_ I know, and so do you. Because from what I’ve gathered from these dreams, is that means accepting that ningyo are real. That kami are real. That red strings of fate are real, that reincarnation is real, do you understand? That’s _a lot_ , Daisuke.”

“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Dai hit back, bitterness creeping into his voice. “I just watched a woman I knew, a woman I loved, in another life, a woman I had _children_ with - I can’t even...I could have...descendents out there, running around, family I never knew about…” He shook his head quickly, refocusing, “I watched her... I don’t even understand why she’s still alive, or _how_ , but she is...was...I don’t know...we just _left_ her there with those _things_ -”

“She betrayed us,” Tatsuki interrupted, coolly, narrowing his eyes. “That’s how she’s still alive.”

“What did you see?” Dai mumbled numbly, eyes searching his face, “Tatsuki, what did you see?”  
  
“The end.” He gentled his tone, feeling slightly guilty at the look on Dai’s face. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t know. It was all so much. Dai stared at him patiently, waiting for him to continue. Tatsuki passed him the seashell, motioning to it with his free hand. “You...uh...you gave me this, I suppose. Back then. She was...returning it to me. It…” He drifted off, mind flitting back to the flashback that had hit him so vividly earlier, when he’d wrapped his hand around it for the first time - first time in this life, anyway.

_Daisuke’s birds, squawking, splashing. His own tail, thrashing violently in the water, slapping at it, upper body twisting and fighting against the grip of the men, so many men, human men, holding him in place. He cried out for Daisuke, again, and again, terrified, panicked. He could see him, sometimes, when he whipped his head back and forth, over the heads of the men, dim in the firelight, fighting too, against a similar bevy of men, calling his name back to him._

“If we combine what you learned today, with what I learned today, we can safely deduce that your...wife...caught us having...an affair.” Tatsuki struggled, visibly, to say everything out loud, frowning at the sound of it, “And she told the villagers, the other fishermen too, about me. So they ambushed us. And.” He could feel his cheeks getting hot again, from the embarrassment of what he was describing, from the absurdity of it all. “How much do you know about ningyo?”  
  
Dai’s face paled, and his mouth dropped open slightly. “She ate you?”

Tatsuki barked out a sharp little laugh and fell back against the seat, covering his eyes and pressing his fingers into them, rubbing tiny, hard circles against his eyelids until he saw spots. “God. This is so stupid...yes. Eating the flesh of a ningyo will give you a very long life. Or make you immortal. Legends vary. So there’s the answer to your question. She ate me.”

“This is crazy,” Dai muttered, and Tatsuki heard the sound of him thumping back against the seat as well.

He dropped his hands from his eyes and rolled his head to the side to face Dai, shrugging his closest shoulder and offering a small, forced smile. One that simply said, _I know_.

* * *

They forgot about dinner, opting to head straight for Tatsuki’s apartment. They hadn’t talked about it, any of it, since the train, seemingly settling on a sort of truce without saying as much, a silent understanding. The distraction of Tatsuki’s apartment was good. The decor was as Dai had imagined it would be - minimalistic, but stylish, mostly black, with accents of gold. The way his heart started to beat a little bit faster when he crossed the threshold was nice, too. A distraction, to help him focus, on the present. Focus, on the way Tatsuki’s eyebrows lifted when Dai’s stomach grumbled audibly enough for him to hear. On the little smile he made as he slid a cold bowl of rice across the counter to a grateful Dai after a quick dig through his refrigerator. On the pointed look he gave him, one complete with a crooked little smile, after laying out a towel across the nearest chair, before disappearing into the bathroom for a shower. _Me first. Don’t try it._

The apartment was mostly open plan, the bed sharing a space with his desk, his computer, a couch, with bookshelves framing either side. Dai wheeled his luggage to the most out-of-the-way place he could find, then shuffled a little nervously from foot-to-foot, waiting for Tatsuki to emerge from the shower. And when he did emerge, hair still slightly wet, a loose black t-shirt hanging from his upper body while tight black boxer briefs hugged his thighs, and every curve of muscle there, Dai tried to look anywhere else and failed miserably. Tatsuki only smirked, heading for the kitchen for his own bit of food before bed while Dai hurried past him to get his own shower, Dai’s head ducking down with the tiniest bit of shame.

The water was hot, and strong, and Dai tried to keep his mind on it as he showered, away from thoughts of lost loves, and past lives, and whatever dreams awaited them tonight. They lingered, still, on the corners of his mind, but his mind was exhausted, he was exhausted, so he pushed them back, hoping they were content to hover around the edges for now. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they could look at it all with fresh eyes, sharper minds.

He threw on his own loose black t-shirt, and - considerately, he thought, appropriately - looser, more traditional checked and baggy boxer shorts and took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom, steeling himself for the question he knew he wanted to ask.

Tatsuki was already in bed when he came out, laying on his side, scrolling through his phone. Dai cleared his throat and Tatsuki looked up at him curiously, shoving his phone away under the pillow.

“Where should I, uh...can I?...” He gestured at the second pillow, at the space beside Tatsuki.

“Yeah, sure, of course, just...stay on your side,” Tatsuki warned, shuffling backwards a little to create some more space for Dai.

“Yeah, yeah…” Dai sighed as he made his way over to the bed, flipping the lights off on the way, heart rate kicking up again as he lifted up the covers to slide in beside Tatsuki. They laid there, facing each other and not speaking, maybe neither entirely sure what there was to say, right now, after everything that had happened in the past few hours.

The silence wasn’t exactly awkward, but Dai decided to break it anyway, to push his luck just a little bit.

“You know, it’s hard not to think about you...like that...when we’re like this.”

Tatsuki snorted. “Well, don’t.” He replied, sharp and flat. But there was a dusting of pink on his cheeks, one Dai could see even in the faint slice of moonlight coming through the nearby curtains.

“I just said it was hard not to.” Dai protested, giving Tatsuki his best big, innocent eyes, even though he knew already they wouldn’t work.

“Do your best!” Tatsuki replied in a mocking, sing-song voice, snickering as he rolled over to face the wall instead.

“I’ll do my best.” Dai grumbled back, but he smiled listening to the sound of Tatsuki’s tiny snicker again.

He knew better, far better, than to push it any further, so he stopped talking, repressed any urge to reach out and _touch_ , and simply stared, studied instead. The curve of Tatsuki’s neck, the way the moonlight tinted his skin with a pale blue glow. The slope of his shoulder, and the spot between it and his neck that Dai knew was sensitive, knew that he liked, hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt but certainly still there. How soft, how inviting, his hair looked, even when the view was of the back of his head. The memory, of how it felt to touch. But he’d lost that permission, that right. Or, at least, he definitely didn’t have it right now. So he closed his eyes now, instead, his study starting to hurt too much to continue. Focused, instead, on the slow and steady sound of Tatsuki’s breaths, evening out, deepening, as he drifted off to sleep, and let them lull him into sleep as well.

* * *

_In the historic fisherman’s hut, by the shore, there’s a small, tidily kept kamidana in the corner of the room. Folded up and tucked away, carefully, just underneath the shrine, in a small drawer, is a newspaper from 2014. The front page bears three photos, of the men’s figure skating team for the Sochi Olympics. While yellowed with age, it is in otherwise impeccable condition, though the soft and well-worn edges show it has been taken out and looked at many times over the years._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, please leave me some love if you liked it, and let me know what you think <3 I am always, always nervous. Feedback helps a lot. Thank you to everyone who helped encourage me along the way and put up with my whining and helped with little details here and there...you all know who you are. Thank you to my betas for this chapter, [marmee_ginny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmee_ginny) and [halfjoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfjoker)! If you have any lingering questions or theories, please share them with me :) 
> 
> *A warning for the start of chapter 3: There will be a vivid dream, with implied violence and a mention of blood, it's probably the heaviest of the sequences we'll see in this fic. So if this is something that will upset you, please skip the first set of italicized text at the start of chapter 3.


	3. Blood & Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that there is a heavier scene in the start of this chapter, nothing too graphic, but there's a brief blood mention and implied violence. If this bothers you, please skip the last big italicized paragraph of the dream, and the first italicized paragraph after they wake up.

_Pushing and shoving, hugging and kissing_ _  
_ _All of the time, all over again_

 _Lock the door_  
_Then we'll die_  
_Bottoms up_  
_I'm in love_ _  
I love you_

 _You're the best I can do_  
-Big Black Delta, Huggin & Kissin

“Your dark side is the most beautiful thing you possess and it will always belong to me.”  
-The Strange Colour of Your Body’s Tears 

##  **SEPARATE**

#### III. BLOOD & INK

_Daisuke stood in front of the full-length mirror, its corners draped with colorful and silky scarves, feeling a tiny bit ridiculous. He hadn’t wanted to wake Tatsuki, to disturb him, not when he was sleeping so peacefully, looking so absolutely angelic. Especially not after the trouble last night, at the bar. So he’d grabbed the nearest robe to cover himself, so he could sneak over to the kitchen space and make them both a nice coffee. Wake his lover up nicely, and maybe with another apology. But the robe was short, and a deep shade of purple, and a shiny, flashy satin fabric. It was the contrast that was getting to him. The robe was so short it was almost indecent, just barely covering him, muscular thighs bulging out past the hemline, the glossy purple fabric clashing starkly with the black stripes and flurry of pink sakura petals and orange maple leaves tattooed there, along with the tail of the phoenix that extended up his chest, currently mostly hidden away by the folds of the bathrobe._

_But he hadn’t tied the robe very tightly, not in his stumbling, sleepy early morning state, so his broad chest was mostly visible. The head of a phoenix barely peeked out of one side of the robe, the face of a samurai showed on the other. His eyes trailed up to meet his own face in the mirror and he winced. The cut on his eyebrow had scabbed over by now, but his bottom lip still looked a little swollen, one corner still a little raw. Kissing Tatsuki hard and with enthusiasm once they’d tumbled into the loft and into safety, that probably hadn’t helped anything, but he certainly wasn’t going to stop. Not then, not now, not ever._

_Lost in thought, he didn’t hear Tatsuki stirring in the bed behind him, didn’t register the sound of his feet padding onto the floor, nor the sounds of him slipping on his own robe or coming up behind him. He didn’t notice until Tatsuki’s arms were sliding around his waist, until he was pressing a soft kiss to Daisuke’s neck, and Daisuke startled slightly, nearly spilling the coffees he was holding. But Tatsuki chuckled, breath tickling the sensitive skin of his neck, and held him tighter, held him steady, so the coffees were spared. He slipped around Daisuke so he was facing him now, looking curiously down at the coffees and back up to meet his eyes._

_Daisuke’s heart skipped a beat as he bit his lip and simply drank in the sight of the man standing before him. His hair was still mussed, ends at his shoulders and curling up in every which direction. He had slept in his makeup, but it was still nearly perfect, somehow: cat eye still impeccable, shadow more smudged but in a way Tatsuki could shrug off and call a deliberate smokey eye. There was only a whisper of pink matte left on one corner of his lips, the rest having been kissed, bitten, away the night before. And even like this, maybe even especially like this, he left Daisuke feeling breathless._

_“I’m sorry,” Daisuke started, gesturing to the coffees with a nod of his head, “Last night…”_

_Tatsuki frowned, shaking his head, taking one of the coffees with one hand and reaching delicately up with the other. He raked his fingers through Daisuke’s hair, fixing his bedhead into the style he knew Daisuke liked best: swept to one side so his long hair reached just above his chin and showed off his undercut on the opposite side. Then, his fingers found the cut on Daisuke’s eyebrow, the sting of the contact making Daisuke wince and let out a tiny hiss as Tatsuki smoothed it gently with his thumb. He trailed his fingers slowly down Daisuke’s face, and Daisuke inhaled sharply, letting his eyes flutter shut as they found the rawer cut by his still swollen lip, thumb pausing, caressing again._

_“It's okay,” Tatsuki said softly, and Daisuke opened his eyes again as Tatsuki cupped his face. He turned his head into the touch, pressed a kiss to the soft skin of Tatsuki's palm. “Come.” Tatsuki said, and dropped his hand down to take Daisuke’s free one as he guided him back to the large bed in the middle of the loft._

_Tatsuki set his own coffee down on the nightstand, gesturing for Daisuke to kneel on the center of the bed, maneuvering him carefully, mindful of the coffee he was still holding in one hand. Daisuke raised an eyebrow at him but he only smiled coyly in return, and Daisuke knew better than to ask. He listened to Tatsuki fussing, rustling behind him and felt a little shiver of anticipation crawl up his spine, unsure what was brewing in that beautiful mind of his, but ready for it, whatever it was. He felt the mattress dip as Tatsuki joined him on the bed, crawling up behind Daisuke, heard the distinct sound of paintbrushes clinking against a glass jar, of palettes clacking together as Tatsuki placed them beside him. He felt the touch of Tatsuki's fingertips through the thin satin robe, sliding it down, down off his shoulders, working it down his back until it was pooled at his waist._

_He had a vague idea, now, of what Tatsuki had taken a notion for, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He listened, savored, the sound of Tatsuki's brush, tapping and mixing, creating. Daisuke, and his unfinished koi tattoo, the one that spread across his entire back, were going to be Tatsuki's canvas this morning. The tattoos took time; they were meant to, and so while he'd made good progress on his chest and his thighs, his back was still in early linework, like his arms, which still only bore half-sleeve outlines at present - one, a peony, the other, a skull. These lineworks contained empty spaces, apparently crying out this morning to Tatsuki to be filled in._

_The giant koi took up most of his back, swimming upstream, signifying persistence, determination, strength, in the face of adversity. Stood, as testament, to what he'd already been through. Water, in the same traditional style, surrounded the fish, a couple more maple leaves and sakura petals caught in the streams. He could tell, from the slight and restrained stroke of the brush against his skin, from the placement on his back, that Tatsuki was doing the petals first. He shivered reflexively. The wet kiss of the brush was cold, and slightly jarring._

_Tatsuki “tsk”ed from behind him. “Hold still.”_

_The brush retreated, dabbing against the palette before returning for the next sakura petal._

_“Sorry. Cold.” Daisuke mumbled, but he did his best to comply, focusing on the various works scattered around the loft as Tatsuki painted his back._

_Tatsuki had mounted a few of his own paintings along the wall. Ones he liked too much, or meant too much, to try and sell. The sheer amount of work he produced meant these displayed works rotated frequently. The morning sunlight coming in through the wall-to-wall paneling of windows behind them lit every canvas with a warm, cozy glow. The first one was a blur of reds and blacks and whites in varying shades, but amid the frenzy of strokes you could make out two grasping hands, tangled and bound in knots and strings of red thread. The middle one…his cheeks felt hotter as he looked at it, still a little embarrassed. The middle one was him, facedown on this very bed, head laying on folded arms and hair up in a messy bun. The sheets maintained his decency but only barely, leaving tattooed limbs and back visible in his early morning sprawl. It was a softer painting, more classical than abstract. The dangers of letting your artist boyfriend wake up before you. The third was the oldest of the ones he currently had on the wall. Similar in style to the first, but with pinks instead of reds, and after the first glance you could see it was a hand, a hand decorating black hair with sprigs of sakura._

_The sound of the brush drew Daisuke’s attention back, swishing in the small jar of water, wooden handle clinking against the glass. His eyes drifted to the left corner of the room as Tatsuki began making longer strokes, painting in the maple leaves. There, a pile of canvases. Tatsuki had looked at the whole stack of them disdainfully and flapped one hand, referring to them as his “pop art phase”. Some of the bright, comic-style images were still visible from here: a cat, a bottle of sake, a seashell. His current work was taking up the middle stretch of the room: an old folding screen which he was painstakingly covering with fresh paper to paint his own scenes on. Their own scenes on. Scenes from the dreams._

_Instead of choosing just one scene to span the whole panel, Tatsuki was blending several scenes together, “blurring together like the passage of time, like the edges of our dreams,” he'd explained, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement as he'd gestured at each panel, babbling about what would go where, before he'd grabbed Daisuke’s face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss, smiling, murmuring gratitude for his muse. The first panel was mostly finished - a shinto priest, bringing an offering to a shrine by a waterfall. Another man, wrapped in a sort of cloud of stars, floated above and to the right, suspended over a distinctive tree. The lake at the bottom of the waterfall stretched onto the next panel, turning there into a river. Here, the sketches were still just rough pencil, not outlined or filled in with color. Tatsuki had explained, though, that the bottom of the panel would be nighttime, for the ukai fisherman and his birds, and the mermaid-like creature watching them from behind a large rock. Then, above, on a riverbank, one that would stretch into a battlefield for the next panel, a Heian era prince sat informally, listening intently to a nearby scholar reading out a poem. Tatsuki was attempting to maintain a traditional Japanese style for the whole project, despite being “woefully unfamiliar” with the technique, as he'd bemoaned to Daisuke one morning while carefully erasing a cormorant to try again. Despite that, Daisuke thought it still looked very good so far. He noted the small wooden box of inks was missing from its spot next to the screen and figured that must be the medium Tatsuki was using to paint him instead._

_An involuntary shudder went through him now, as Tatsuki started to apply broader, firmer strokes to his back, filling in the water._

_“Still.” Tatsuki reprimanded again, pausing to poke his neck with the handle of the brush._

_“Sorry. Feels weird.” Daisuke shuffled slightly on the bed, keeping his legs awake, taking the opportunity of the short break to take a sip of his coffee._

_“I know. Patience, please. I’m making a point.” Tatsuki’s breath tickled his neck, a soft kiss following, in the same place he’d jabbed the brush handle, before he returned to his work._

_It was a strange sensation, the brush against his skin. It wasn’t that cold, now. He’d gotten used to the wet feel of the ink, the cooler temperature against his own body’s heat. It felt oddly vulnerable, and intimate, to have Tatsuki painting him like this. He couldn’t see what he was doing, but he could guess, from the position of the brush, what he was working on each stroke, and from studying Tatsuki while he’d painted before, he could even visualize the way he was moving his hand, the perch of his fingers on the handle. The undoubtedly concentrated but serene look on his face. Maybe there would be a slight twitch of the lip, furrow of the brow, when he was focusing on a particularly difficult part. He could hear Tatsuki’s breathing - steady, even, focused._

_The drying of the ink was a bizarre feeling as well, as if he were growing another skin, but a fragile one. One that could be smeared, with pressure and sweat and fingertips, one that could be wiped away. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Neither were the brush strokes, now that he’d grown accustomed. They were smooth, and came at regular and predictable and somehow calming intervals. The overall feeling lay somewhere between ticklish and mildly erotic. Daisuke tried to distract himself from the latter half of that realization by studying the collection of paintings that stood to the right of the folding screen. It was a cluttered array, the result of heavy doses of inspiration. Tatsuki’s “Dreams” collection, interspersed with “regular” portraits of Daisuke, making it all a bit chaotic to take in at once like this._

_The dreams hadn’t unnerved Tatsuki like they had Daisuke. they’d done the opposite, they’d captivated him, enthralled him. The first time the dreams had startled them awake, left them staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless, Daisuke had felt confused, afraid, mind racing and still foggy with images of Tatsuki, and gunsmoke, and desert sunrises. Tatsuki, pulling the bandanna down from around his face and laughing, hair blowing wildly around his face in the wind generated from the speed Daisuke was driving their convertible. Tatsuki, shoved up against the motel wall, legs wrapped around Daisuke’s waist, Daisuke’s hands firmly grasping his thighs, Tatsuki’s fingers wound tightly in his hair. Tatsuki, laying low across the backseat, one foot stretched out and hooked over Daisuke’s seat, resting lightly on the top of his thigh as he reloaded, to avoid the return fire from the red lights and sirens behind them. It had been visceral, haunting, disturbingly real. But Tatsuki's eyes had been full of awe, full of wonder, and he'd stroked Daisuke’s face before gripping his shoulders so he could pull himself closer, planting kisses down his face, along his shoulder, mumbling the word “muse” against his skin for the first time._

_And that had inspired the first painting in the series - Daisuke, but with different hair and not a single tattoo, all fingers intact. Daisuke, sitting on the hood of the car from the dream, hands folded over his lap and cigarette dangling idly from one, face turned towards the brilliant hues of orange and pink spreading over the miles of sand as the sun came up. And that had only been the first. More dreams came, the more time they spent together, and Tatsuki painted and painted like a man consumed. Daisuke, cheeks red with drink, sitting with his back against the trunk of a tree, still dressed in light samurai armor with his helmet laying off to the side, gaze flirty and smile coy, holding out a flask._ _Daisuke, but in a suit and tie, sporting thick rimmed glasses, tapping a ruler against a dusty chalkboard._ _Daisuke, but in resplendent, colorful traditional hitatare, pieces of armor, black and gold, and hair tied in a high ponytail, long enough to reach his waist, mouth open, mid-laugh, eyes crinkled upward and smeared with red, leaning against a wooden torii with his arms crossed._

_And interspersed throughout, there were portraits of him now, the real him, the him with his studded leather jacket, covered in various patches, including the one swatch of fabric Tatsuki had impulsively cut from his canvas after their first night together, when Daisuke had expressed admiration of the painting in progress on it. The him who stood with his motorcycle and his smug expression and his gorgeous artist slinging an arm around his hip and pressing a kiss to his cheek. The him who, flanked by the oyabun’s daughter Pineapple Queen Satoko - the tiny and fierce grenade slinging fireball - on one side, and his close friend, confidante and loyal shatei, Hiro on the other - led his fellow yakuza into the red-lit bar the first night he’d laid eyes on Tatsuki. These were okay, and safe, and familiar, no matter how intimidating an aura they might hold for someone else. The dreams were uncharted, unknown, vivid, and so plentiful. Tatsuki had wrapped around him, after the first dream of shrines and red threads and priests, and whispered about soulmates, and fate, and magic, pressing hard and impassioned yet reassuring kisses to his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his eye._

_But Daisuke hadn’t been charmed right away, just frightened and confused. Alarmed. And a little naked, laid bare, in a way, before Tatsuki, in their dreams, without his permission. Like the way Tatsuki had immediately crawled under his skin, inside his bones, and wrapped around his heart from the first moment he’d laid eyes on him. Possessive, bewitching, Tatsuki demanded his attention, his entire heart, his entire being. And he’d given him that, given him everything, without question, without a second thought. That had been an easy decision. To embrace the dreams, what they might mean, to get excited about unraveling any mysteries they held, that had taken more convincing. But Tatsuki’s excitement, his passionate devotion to putting them immediately to canvas, to waxing philosophical about them the next morning, whether they lay apart with their fingers loosely threaded together or still tangled limb with limb in a lover’s clutch, it chipped at his reservations, unwound them. It was contagious._

_The last stroke of the water finished and Daisuke let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, lifting up his coffee for another sip, even though it was going cold now. He shuffled back and forth on his knees again, rocking forward and back as well, trying to shake off any pins and needles while Tatsuki primed his next ink, for the last big piece, the koi, the only space left on Daisuke’s back now that hadn’t been colored in. It felt good, like a sort of relief, when Tatsuki’s brush was finally painting in the scales, one by one. Daisuke closed his eyes and rolled his neck, carefully, but it still earned him a warning grunt and small but sharp whack of the brush handle against the top of his ear. He snickered and whispered another apology; Tatsuki sighed and went back to work._

_He started to rise up off his knees when he felt the brush retreat from the last scale, but Tatsuki grabbed his shoulders, gently, and pushed him back down. Not finished. Daisuke made a small sound of confusion but Tatsuki only shushed him in response, and soon he felt the kiss of the brush again, tracing over the borders of the scales, over the outline itself._ _He frowned, confused, but he didn't have to wait long. Soon, he felt Tatsuki's breath, blowing light and hot, moving up and down over his back. He held still, even when the mattress dipped again as Tatsuki moved off the bed, even as he heard the glass jars clinking as he put them away, waiting just in case. He looked up when Tatsuki's hand closed over his own, to find his boyfriend's smiling face, the satisfied look he loved so much, the look that said he was thoroughly pleased with the work he'd just done. And this time, the work was him, literally. Daisuke’s heart felt like a small bird, beating its wings rapidly inside his chest, as Tatsuki motioned with his head, tugged his hand, leading him back to the mirror._

_The purple satin robe was still tied around his waist, like a weird sort of modesty belt, the back hanging down now past his waist, arms flopping at the sides. But he barely noticed, focused instead on Tatsuki, letting him guide him into place, with his back facing the mirror. Daisuke noticed, then, what Tatsuki held in his other hand, a smaller mirror, to help him see._

_"Look," Tatsuki whispered, handing it to him, wrapping it gently into his left hand with special care to Daisuke's shorter little finger to make sure he had a firm hold, so he could use it to see behind him better, into the mirror, to look at the fruits of Tatsuki's morning labor on his skin._

_Daisuke's mouth fell open with a gasp as he took it in. Soft pink petals, stark orange maple leaves, amid streams of vibrant blues. And the koi, every scale a pearly white, like the color of Tatsuki's tail, in those dreams, its eyes a deep black. Every outline of every scale had been perfectly traced with a thin line of gold, the slight shimmer to it catching in the morning light, winking back at him from his reflection._

_"Do you know kintsugi?" Tatsuki said softly, his left hand coming up again to trace the cut on Daisuke's eyebrow, on his lip._

_"Wabi-sabi," Daisuke mumbled back, eyes still roaming over the morning masterpiece Tatsuki had created across the span of his back._

_Tatsuki hummed his approval, right hand flitting up now to lightly cup Daisuke’s face, turn it back towards him._

_"I take you, as you are. I love you, as you are." He said solemnly, with conviction, eyes boring into Daisuke's, "Even when you are bad, or broken, you are you, you are mine, my Dice, and I am yours, and I will have you exactly as you are. All of you. And everything that comes with you. You are perfect, to me. Your imperfections are part of that. Without them, you are not you."_

_Daisuke didn't have, couldn't find, the words to answer him, overwhelmed by the strength, the intensity of the love, the affection, blooming, spilling over in his chest, rushing through his veins with every pump of his heart, spreading across his limbs, swallowing him whole. So he didn't answer, not with words. He just dropped the mirror - gently - to the floor, and wrapped his arms up and around Tatsuki's back, pulling him in, needing him, suddenly, desperately. They stumbled back to the bed like that, embracing, entwined, tangled together. Passionate, and ravenous, like they hadn't just done this same dance only hours before, under the blanket of the night. Ink smeared against the sheets, stained Tatsuki's fingertips, but it didn't matter, not in their quest to uncover, to devour, to ravage and to savor each other, here and now, in this moment._

_Tatsuki lay curled against him in the afterglow, head resting on his chest, free hand idly tracing the curve of his neck, the sculpt of his collarbone, the path up and down his arm, from shoulder to elbow and back again, as he patiently waited for Daisuke to finish his cigarette. And when he had, they spent a few more minutes getting lost in each other again, in lips and murmurs and soft, breathy laughs, in whispers of devotion, of praise._

_Tatsuki had only just sat up, pulling away reluctantly and not without one last slow, lingering kiss, to sit up and begin arching, stretching his back in preparation to leave the bed again, when the first loud crack came against the door of the loft, the wood buckling under the force of it. Daisuke felt his heart, his world, drop into the pit of his stomach. Time slowed down, but not slow enough, not nearly slow enough, as the second kick splintered the frame, door swinging wide open. Rival yakuza piled in, breaking into their nest, into their sanctuary. Daisuke wasn't sure what came first: the bright flashes of light or the earth-shattering bursts of sound, louder than thunder, loud enough, blissfully, to drown out any cries of fear and pain. He twisted, turned, pulled Tatsuki close to his chest and dived, rolling over the edge of the bed, onto the floor, seeking some kind of shelter from the hail of gunfire. Any kind._

_But time wasn't slow enough, he wasn't fast enough, it was too late, too late, too late..._

* * *

Dai’s eyes shot open as he jolted awake, gasping for breath, hands instinctively seeking and finding Tatsuki, who was already huddled and shaking against him. One of Dai’s hands snaked up through his hair, to pet and to soothe, to cradle his head there, against Dai’s chest. His other arm wrapped firmly, tightly around Tatsuki’s back, holding him, keeping him close.

“What is this?” Tatsuki whispered numbly, and Dai couldn't answer, only shake his head weakly against the pillow, mind still haunted with the final moments of the dream.

_Blood, and ink, smearing on his cheek, painted with Tatsuki’s fingertips. “I don’t want to die.” Tatsuki’s eyes, wide and afraid, wet with tears. Copper, the bitter stench, the pungent taste, pooling, spilling from his mouth, over his own lips as he mumbles, “I’m so sorry.” Fading, frantic, an urgent, pleading whisper from Tatsuki's lips, one he barely understands, “Find me.”_

Still dazed, distracted, he bent his head and pressed a soft kiss, a barely there whisper, to Tatsuki’s hairline. A primitive-brain impulse, to soothe, to comfort, while his mind was still racing. He only realized what he’d done when Tatsuki flinched and flattened his hands against his chest, pushing back from him. Shit.

But Tatsuki simply shot him one icy warning glare before pushing himself up to sit, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. He pressed his hands against his eyes and rubbed, hard, before dropping them into his lap and turning to Dai again, with a half-hearted smile, eyes a little far away, a little tired. “Coffee?”

“Might as well.” Dai pushed himself up as well, meeting Tatsuki’s eyes only briefly before clearing his throat awkwardly and glancing towards the kitchen unit, still feeling a little guilty for the absent-minded peck. “Don’t really wanna go back to sleep right now, you know?”

Tatsuki’s side of the bed was the one pressed against the wall, so Dai had to shuffle out first, standing and scratching the back of his head while he waited for Tatsuki to follow suit so he could lead the way to the kitchen island. Dai sat on one of the stools there, resting his arms on the marble tabletop and folding his fingers together, silently watching Tatsuki as he prepared the two coffees. It was simple, domestic and cozy, in a way that felt wrong, forbidden. Something he shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy, the way things stood right now, between them. The way things were in this moment, in the immediate aftermath of the intensity of the dream. He nodded his thanks as Tatsuki placed his in front of him, cupping it in his hands.

Tatsuki leaned back against the counter and took a sip of his own coffee before speaking, looking down into it as he did. “I never...saw the end before.”

“Me neither.” Dai said, still studying Tatsuki’s face. “Only up to, uh. The part right before it.”

“Why am I always dying dramatically?” Tatsuki sighed, rolling his neck, rubbing the side of it.

“It’s very you.” Dai drawled, grinning over the edge of his coffee as he took another sip.

“Shut up.” Tatsuki snapped back, but a ghost of smile flickered across his face, and even in the dimmed kitchen lighting his cheeks looked like they might be turning slightly pink. “We should get serious tomorrow. You can come with me to Waseda’s library. We should start there, start researching whatever we can. There are excellent resources there.”

Dai groaned, earning an immediate raised eyebrow from Tatsuki. “That sounds really, really boring. We should be hitting up a medium or something. Someone who knows about this stuff.” He pressed on, even though Tatsuki was already rolling his eyes. “Like, occult experts or something. Hell, maybe a priest.”  

“You must be joking.” Tatsuki deadpanned, “A psychic. Do you want to consult a palm reader too?”

“That’s a good idea,” Dai responded seriously, ignoring the incredulous look he was getting in response, “Why not? I don’t know this stuff, neither do you, why not try it?”

“Please humor me and at least _try_ to take an academic approach to all of this nonsense. The library. We start there.” Tatsuki’s brow still hadn’t come back down, voice cool and unamused.

“Academic. Of course.” Dai pushed his coffee forward so he could lean forward too, crossing his arms to rest his chin on top of them. He bounced one leg restlessly up and down on the rung of the stool, still jittery, still unable to shake the heavy, oppressive dread lingering on after the disturbing end to their dream. He dug his fingers into the sides of his arms, resisting. Resisting comfort. Resisting the urge to seek it, or give it. Tatsuki had stopped shaking, but there was still a tremble in his fingertips, and Dai could see it every time he lifted his coffee and the liquid shook. He wanted, wanted to push his stool back from the counter and stride over to Tatsuki, wanted to pull him close and hold him tightly, tight enough to feel his heartbeat against his chest, through the thin fabric of his shirt, close enough to feel his breath in his hair, on the back of his neck. Embraced, and alive, and here, and safe.

But he couldn’t. So he didn’t.

* * *

They started with the microfilm collection. Dai sat quietly, watching, while Tatsuki worked his way backwards, combing through the archives from 1985, for the daily “scorecards” of killings and other mentions of the Yama-Ichi yakuza war. One dream at a time. Use what they know. Their first names, at least, never seemed to change, family names unknown. A city, somewhere in America. New York, Dai had said with a bone-deep certainty. Tatsuki had looked at him like he wanted to ask something, a pregnant pause hanging in the air between them, but in the end he hadn’t, and just went back to compiling the list. Now, just short of an hour into their research, Dai was finding it increasingly difficult to hide his growing boredom. He drummed his fingers against his knees, clucked his tongue against his teeth - too many times, enough times that Tatsuki definitely noticed and gave him a quick irritated glance.

Luckily, it wasn’t much longer before Tatsuki’s eyes narrowed and he waved Dai closer, mumbling a soft, “here” and gesturing to the screen as Dai grabbed his chair under the seat and scooted it and himself closer without standing up.

_YAKUZA VIOLENCE SPREADS OVERSEAS - 2 dead in New York yakuza killings_

_Manhattan, New York_ _  
_ _The violence started by the Yama-Ichi war has now spread to yakuza branches overseas, claiming two more lives yesterday morning, in Manhattan, New York. At approximately 11:37 a.m., automatic gunfire was heard in a loft apartment in Manhattan’s East Village. Three men were seen fleeing the scene, early eyewitness reports state the suspects are all members of a New York-based yakuza syndicate. First responders to the scene found two men, Daisuke “Dice” Tsuchida, 26, and Tatsuki Matsuhashi, 22,  unresponsive, both of whom were later declared dead at the scene._

_Tsuchida was a known member of a local branch of a rival yakuza syndicate to the suspects’, rumored to be involved primarily in trafficking and distribution of firearms. Tsuchida previously served a minimum sentence of two years in prison for criminal sale of a firearm in the third degree. Matsuhashi was a rising star in the East Village art scene, known for his wide variety and adept use of different popular painting styles and mediums, as well as his dance performances, which often blended contemporary Western dance with traditional Japanese kagura and kabuki dances. The loft was under lease to Matsuhashi and also served as his studio. A friend of the two men, who has requested to remain anonymous, spoke to the Post about the details of their relationship._

_“They were completely in love. Obsessed [with each other]. Inseparable. The only comfort in any of this for us is knowing they were together at the end.”_

_It is unknown at this time whether the relationship between Tsuchida and Matsuhashi was related in any way to their deaths, but sources at the NYPD suggest it is unlikely, implying Matsuhashi was a civilian casualty in the brutal and ongoing fallout from the Yama-Ichi war, as even small syndicates have attempted to leverage the disturbance of power to gain an advantage in their efforts to establish themselves as the dominant yakuza syndicate in the absence of a clear leader._

There was a small, professionally shot photo inset into the snippet. Grainy, and blurry, but still clear enough that Dai had to deal with the instant onset of nausea, of a chill raising the flesh on his arms, the hair on his neck. That was undeniably him. A younger him. A different him. But him, all the same, in a way. Him, but with a punk rock undercut and jacket. And Tatsuki, the same but different, younger, and with much better make-up skills than he’d ever seen this Tatsuki possess, even in a grainy newspaper photograph, with his hair styled nearly the way he wore it now - a little long, a little teased out, lightly curled. Tatsuki, with one arm reaching up to hold Daisuke’s face, palm pressed against his cheek, pressing the sides of their faces together, both smiling and smug like they had a secret, just for the two of them and no one else.

“Fuck.” Dai whispered, because he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Yeah,” Tatsuki concurred, a whisper followed by a breathy laugh. “Fuck.”

His fingers were trembling a little on the controls of the microfilm reader, his breath a little quicker than normal, in a way Dai wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t so close. It was a lot. All of this was a lot. A lot to take in. A lot to process. A lot to feel.

Tatsuki was still staring raptly at the little article on the screen before them, gaze lost and faraway, deep in thought. Eventually, he moved the controller to the print options, breaths evening out, fingers steadying.  

Dai hesitated, eyes scanning up and down Tatsuki’s face, before speaking, “Are you okay?”

Tatsuki glanced at him and shrugged, offering half a smile. “Relatively speaking, yes. You?”

“Yeah...yeah...it’s just...weird.” Dai grimaced and scratched his head, knowing as soon as he spoke that it wasn’t nearly enough, but not knowing what else to say.

“Understatement.” Tatsuki’s quick reply was monotone, but his expression was soft. Warm, even. Understanding. “I’m going to go collect that from the printer before anyone else picks it up to be helpful and we wind up on some occult tabloid. Will you check the list? See what else we can maybe find here.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dai mumbled, reaching for the small moleskine notebook Tatsuki had set down near the controls. He paused once he had it in his hands, stealing a moment just to watch Tatsuki walk away towards the printers. He’d put on a full suit and tie this morning, as if he were going in to teach. Maybe it made him feel better about bringing Dai along on campus, like it were official business of some kind. Maybe it was like a suit of armor, a defense, a preparation for battle. Maybe it gave him something steady, something solid and familiar to help him keep a grip in the face of all these strange revelations. A part of the daily routine. Something he couldn’t get from Dai. He shook his head, looking away from Tatsuki, away from his regrets, and down to the notebook. Whatever the reason, he looked great. It really did suit him.

They hadn’t gone back to bed the night before. Instead they opted to make another round of coffees, to knock their heads together - figuratively, this time - and start planning, start organizing. Figure out what to do. Where to start. Where _this_ started. And how. And why. Make a solid plan. Solve the mystery. Piece everything together.

It had been kind of nice. They had sat together, on the same side of the kitchen island, writing down the bits and pieces - the flashes, the strongest images, the biggest dreams. Which ones would have left a trace, some whisper in the pages of history that they might find? If one was real, then were all the rest? Matching up separate sides of the same dreams, filling in the gaps in each other’s visions. They’d talked into the sunrise, and through it, as morning light, pink and orange and warm, had filtered in through the kitchen window, through the glass door of the balcony, and filled up the room, nice and languid and slow. Tatsuki had smiled and stretched like a cat, spine curving, arching forward, and up, hands clasped behind his head. And Dai had fought, again, the urge to lean just a little closer, to grab him by that slender waist, dig his fingers into his sides. He knew exactly how it would feel, where he would dance his fingers along the groove of his hip, what Tatsuki’s startled gasp would sound like, how his skin would taste if he bent his head to Tatsuki’s neck, pressed a kiss to the place where his pulse beat strongest.

But, maybe, Tatsuki’s expression would harden. Dai could imagine it easily: the cold way he would mutter _“stop it”_ and turn his face away; the way he would stiffen under Dai’s touch and push him back, push him away. The way the fragile peace between them would crumble, back into a stiff, uncomfortable silence. That was possible too. That was more likely. So he resisted. This was all he could have. This should be enough. This had to be enough.

He glanced at the tidied version of their list, the second draft, and drew a line through the first item. _Yakuza, artist, 1980s, NYC, early 20’s? Newspapers_ . That was done. Confirmed. They’d existed. Next on the list, narrowed down to what they could expect to find a trace of in Waseda’s library, was _Teachers, Japan, 1950s? Senior high? Registers, school documents?_ He frowned, tapping the pen against the page. How many senior high schools were there in Japan? Would Waseda even have the school documents in the library?

“Hey…” Tatsuki’s voice from behind him, his hand, falling lightly on his shoulder.

But that’s all he had time to register, as a jolt ran through him and his eyes rolled back.

_“You should go easier on him.”_

_“Then he won’t learn.”_

_Tatsuki was ignoring him, standing over his cluttered desk and staring down into his grade book, as if whatever was on those pages was vastly more interesting than anything Daisuke had to say._

_“If he doesn’t keep up his academics, he’s going to drop his arts, and he has too much talent for it to go to waste like that. Are you even listening to me?”_

_Daisuke crossed over to where Tatsuki was standing, bracing one hand against the desk and using the other to gently but firmly pull his grading book out of his hands and snap it closed, placing it down on the desk. He was expecting the raised brow, and the wide eyes, a curious mixture between surprised and annoyed, so they only made him smile, only made him surer._

_“Rude.” Tatsuki reprimanded him, but there was half a smile on his face, too._

_“We’re tense. Stressed. We should take a break.” He pushed the book further away, moved his hand to Tatsuki’s hip._

_“I don’t think so. I have a lot of work to do tonight.” Tatsuki said primly, but his hands moved to perch on Daisuke’s chest, slid up to encircle his neck as he moved closer._

_“Five minutes,” Daisuke murmured, resting his forehead lightly against Tatsuki’s._

_“A short duration is not a good selling point.” Tatsuki quipped back, but his smile was a little bit wider, his breath a little bit faster._

_“Ten.” He tried again, and Tatsuki laughed, but he also pulled him closer. That was the only cue he needed. “Did you lock the door?”_

_Tatsuki nodded, and Daisuke grinned, lurching forward, to the left, sweeping his arm out and along the messy desk, clearing it in one fell and noisy swoop, books and rulers and pens clattering to the floor._

_Tatsuki only had enough time to make half a disgruntled cry before Daisuke was smothering the rest with his lips, hoisting him roughly onto the cleared off desk, laying him out._

Tatsuki pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. Dai started in his seat, blinking rapidly as the world came back into focus. They both glanced around themselves, around the room, wide-eyed and sheepish, wondering if anyone had noticed.

“That was a long one. You okay?” Dai muttered, tilting his head back to glance up at Tatsuki’s face.

What he found there surprised him a little. Tatsuki was trying very hard to keep his face blank, but it just made the fact he was flustered more obvious. He cleared his throat and sat down without looking at Dai, pulling the small notebook closer instead, staring down with intense concentration at the list.

“Fine, yeah. Did you...did you get anything useful from that?” Tatsuki held his hand out for the pen without looking up.

“No. Nothing I didn’t know already.” Dai raised one eyebrow, unable to keep a smirk off his face, unable to resist the opportunity to tease. “You look good in a suit. You’re a better teacher than me.”

“Obviously.” Tatsuki snorted, still looking down, waving his hand now, impatiently.

Dai’s smirk stretched into a grin, holding the pen just above Tatsuki’s hand and adding, “You like it rough.”

And _that_ got the reaction he was hoping for, Tatsuki immediately looking up at him with a mixture of irritation and disbelief. “If you think I won’t hit you-”

“What, right here? In the middle of the library? Professor…” Dai’s voice was low, teasing, taking full advantage of Tatsuki’s indignant expression, one that clashed with his quickly reddening cheeks, “I thought you preferred your desk.”

“You are infuriating.” Tatsuki hissed under his breath, snatching the pen and giving him a withering look. “You know what else could stop these dreams and weird flashbacks? Me, staying away from you, forever, so you can never annoy me again.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, not that, please,” Dai pleaded, laying it on thick with his palms pressed together in penance, hovering them under his own nose and looking beseechingly at Tatsuki, not relenting until Tatsuki rolled his eyes and pushed them down.

“Focus, please. So we’re both teachers in that dream, right? That should be easy to find a record of. School records, registers, something like that.” Tatsuki returned his attention to the notepad, to their scrawled out list of leads.

“Yeah, but I never really got a read on where we _are_ , or even the name of the school, did you? How many senior high schools do we have to go through if we don’t know?” Dai mused, idly rubbing his forefinger against his lower lip, thinking.

“Thousands.” Tatsuki sighed. “Maybe we should move on. I don’t think anything else is recent enough for a newspaper.” He tapped the pen against the notebook before marking an “x” next to the “Teachers” line. “So...Heian-era...prince? We should try historical books and records.”

Dai groaned, which earned him another annoyed look as Tatsuki stood up to gather the microfilm. “I’m sorry, did you have a better idea?”

“No, it just sounds really boring.” Dai said honestly, shrugging at Tatsuki with open palms and a crooked grin. “I mean...I still think we should try less _academic_ avenues.” He held up his hands defensively as Tatsuki’s eyes narrowed. “After this! After this.”

* * *

“Here. Sorry, there aren’t any with pictures.”

Dai looked up from his phone, where he’d stubbornly been googling “Tokyo psychics” as Tatsuki dropped three books on the table in front of him. _Shinto Mythology and History_. _Yokai of Japanese Mythology: A Guide. Death & Rebirth in the Shinto and Zen Buddhist Practices: A Shared History. _

“Very funny.” Dai said dryly, pulling the first tome close to start leafing through.

Tatsuki smirked but didn’t reply, settling into his own selection of research books, stories, histories and records from the Heian era, and a couple from the Bakumatsu period. Dai opened the first book, boredom rapidly increasing as he flipped through each page. And there _were_ pictures, occasional sketches of the various mythological creatures and legends. He skimmed the pages, mentally checking through each sketch he recognized. Hone-onna. Tengu. Ningyo. Kappa.

A chill ran through him as the page turned to a sketch of two creatures in ragged, torn black robes. Creatures with animal skulls over their faces, and twisted, crooked horns. Creatures with skeletal hands, wings made of bone, and curved, yellowed talons for fingers. His eyes darted to the bold text at the top of the page. _Shinigami._

“Hey, Macchi, I got something.” Dai mumbled, turning the book sideways so Tatsuki could lean forward and read along with him.

Tatsuki frowned, brow creasing as he read the accompanying text. “Shit. I thought so.”

**_Shinigami - Gods of Death_ **

_In contrast to Western ideas of death gods and Grim Reapers, the shinigami are not perceived as terrifying beings, but instead are merely part of the cycle of life. Their purpose is to ensure that people die at their appointed time, and that they are then escorted to the afterlife. Shinigami typically work in pairs. They have been depicted differently in stories and by artists throughout history, with their first traceable mention appearing during the Edo period. They appear often in modern Japanese pop culture and works of fiction, and often share only their name in common with their original purpose. Itako are sometimes rumored to work with shinigami in order to speak with the dead. There is some debate over whether shinigami are themselves major kami, or exist as minor kami in service to a greater kami, such as_ _I_ _zanami-no-mikoto (Izanami)_ _or_ _Ichikishima-hime-no-mikoto (Benzaiten)._

“Shinigami…” Dai said, feeling dizzy, feeling the chill seeping into his skin now, into his bones. “Are we going to die?”

“Everyone dies.” Tatsuki said absent-mindedly as he checked the other side of the page, making sure there wasn’t anything else of note.

“That wasn’t the question,” Dai muttered, but Tatsuki wasn’t listening. Tatsuki was scanning the page again, lips moving silently, brow still furrowed, nodding to himself when he reached the end again.

“Good find. Keep looking.” And with that Tatsuki was sitting back in his chair, back to his own research.

Dai stared at him for a moment, bewildered, and a little bit jealous of how much he was taking in stride. How easy it seemed to be for him to just compartmentalize all this new and bizarre information, without any signs of panic or unease. It was like he had flipped some sort of internal switch. Some sort of survival mode had engaged. Acceptance had happened so quickly Dai had missed it entirely. Now, Tatsuki was charging forward, seemingly unbothered. Maybe it was burying themselves in the books, the research -- something familiar, something he trusts. As much of a suit of armor as the literal suit he’d put on for the day.

It was Tatsuki who piped up next, waving Dai forward to lean over and read a small paragraph, a tiny dot left behind on the pages of history.

_Prince Getsuei was betrayed by his younger brother, Prince Hanei, and the subsequent discovery of Getsuei’s love affair with Minamoto no Eizan - conducted while he continued to turn down all offers of marriage -  caused outrage and scandal in the court. Minamoto no Eizan was accused of seducing the prince, and distracting him from his duties and responsibilities of the crown. Prince Hanei and his supporters argued strongly that it could be considered treason, or at the least an attempted usurpation of the throne by the Minamoto clan, and fought for Minamoto no Eizan to be executed for the severity of his alleged crimes. Getsuei was forced to step down, replaced by Hanei, and was unable to stop the proceedings. The lovers made one escape attempt before Minamoto’s execution date, but were caught not far from the palace. Getsuei died two weeks later, at age 24, in what is now considered to be one of the earliest cases of takotsubo cardiomyopathy, more commonly known as “broken-heart syndrome”._

“Oh,” Dai said softly, meeting Tatsuki’s eyes as he finished the paragraph, “I was kinda hoping those guys had made out a little better.” Visions of sakura, of poetry and fingertips brushing against silk, lingering too long against flesh, flitted through his mind but he shoved them aside. Not right now.

“Yeah, well, I’m sensing a theme.” Tatsuki muttered darkly, flipping to the back of the book to confirm what they already knew from the dreams, the “true” names of both. _Prince Getsuei (Daisuke)_ . _Minamoto no Eizan (Tatsuki)_ . He plowed onward, to the books from the Bakumatsu period, and it didn’t take him long to find their names in the register of shinsengumi, either. _Takeuchi Daisuke (Samurai). Maeda Tatsuki (Doctor)._ It also didn’t take Dai long to drift back into boredom and googling the nearest psychic hotspots in Tokyo on his phone.

The second Tatsuki closed his last book and leaned back in his chair, Dai was sliding his phone across the table with one hand, tapping insistently on the screen with the other.

“Minato-ku. Let’s go there next. It’s not far.” He watched Tatsuki’s face carefully, watched the way he pressed his lips together into a firm line and pushed an annoyed huff of breath out through his nose. Dai wiggled his phone back and forth on the table, deciding to sweeten the deal. “I’ll buy dinner. Drinks? Come on.” Tatsuki just stared blankly back at Dai. He was really going to make him say it. Dai sighed. “Please?”

There it was. A quick twitch at the edges of Tatsuki’s lips, only for a second, but it was there. Victory. Dai was already pushing back his chair and reaching for his coat before Tatsuki’s defeated “fine” reached his ears.

* * *

There was one more struggle upon leaving the subway car in Minato-ku.

Tatsuki hesitated before stepping off to join Dai on the platform, grimacing. He gave Dai his best pleading look, one that said _please don’t make me do this_. But Dai grinned and grabbed his hand, tugging him off the car and onto the platform before it was too late and the doors closed and whisked him away to not-going-to-a-psychic territory. The small giggle Tatsuki muffled with Dai’s shoulder as he stumbled forward told the real story: Keeping up appearances versus actual complaints. Brattiness for the sake of it.

He let Dai lead him a few steps towards the stairs before gently pulling his hand free. Dai tried not to think about the way his fingertips had lingered as he did, about the absence of warmth now. They traded barbs, friendly ones, as they exited the subway, coming up into the chill of the late afternoon air under the slowly darkening sky as sunset approached. Tatsuki dragged his feet a little outside the first storefront, with its garish neon signs, window frame draped in fairy lights. But he was smiling, and he kept smiling as Dai grabbed his shoulders and marched him inside.

Ten minutes later, five-thousand yen shorter, and they didn’t have anything useful, but now Tatsuki could throw a wry smile over his shoulder and tell him that was his red aura talking the next time he said something provocative, which happened approximately two minutes after they left the shop. He couldn’t audibly groan when Dai gestured to the table of the next tarot card reader they came across, because they would have heard him, and that would have been rude, but the look he shot Dai as they sat down said it all for him.

But the way he’d glanced over when the tarot reader asked him what he sought, the look in his eyes, still locked with Dai’s, when he’d replied. “ _Why are we sharing dreams?”_ That’s the look that made Dai’s heart skip a beat. The skeptical and yet gentle way Tatsuki’s eyes scanned the cards as the reader turned them over - all cups and swords and wands, one reaper and one magician - that did it, too. Maybe this _was_ pointless, and maybe it was all nonsense they shouldn’t give any second thought, but Tatsuki was remaining open to it, even only a respectfully minimal degree. Tatsuki was having _fun_ , in spite of himself and his own reservations, even if it was just to humour Dai. That was something, that was _doing_ something, to Dai, to the swell in his chest he was fighting to keep contained, to the warmth spreading over him, from the inside. That was dangerous.

And yet, he didn’t want it to stop. He wanted to nurture it. Wanted to let it grow, let it spill over. Let it consume him, again. Wanted it all, all over again. Even if it hurt.

So he noticed, when Tatsuki moved just a little bit closer, close enough that their arms were touching, just a little, on their ambling walk down the streets of Minato-ku. They didn’t have a firm destination in mind, picking their forays into the occult at random, since Minato-ku was abnormally dense with such offerings. He noticed, the way Tatsuki was slowly relaxing, unwinding and warming, letting his carefully kept guard down, bit by bit. He noticed, the way Tatsuki was letting his eyes linger a little longer, smiling a little bit wider, with more teeth. Noticed the way he seemed to be looking, waiting, for excuses to touch, and to linger there.

Like the way he planted his feet firmly outside the shopfront with “PAST LIFE READINGS” emblazoned across the glass, shaking his head emphatically, compelling Dai to seize his arm in both hands and pull him forward until he was tumbling into him, laughing and hiding his face against his neck for a beat too long for it to be harmless. The way his fingers uncurled at a leisurely pace from where they’d been resting in fists on his chest; the way they splayed and lingered there, even as he slowly pushed himself back, eyes dancing with a mischievous light, a mirth. Dai swallowed, hard, smiled back, wondered if Tatsuki had felt how fast his heart was beating under his fingertips as he motioned with his head towards the door of the shop.

And inside, they only shared more secret glances, and barely contained laughter, ankles knocking together under the table as they fought to keep their faces straight and calm. Because she was wrong, she was _so_ wrong. When Tatsuki hummed loudly in agreement, nodding solemnly, mouth pressed tightly shut, eyes wide and brow furrowed to keep his eyebrows from creeping up it, while the reader explained the strong vision of Tatsuki the Egyptian Pharaoh, Dai nearly lost it. He covered the strangled, squawk of a laugh that escaped with a forced bout of coughing, and nearly took Tatsuki with him. But somehow, they persevered, held it together all the way through Tatsuki's reading and then Dai's - a Victorian era lord, complete with a manor - even made it all the way around the corner from the shop before they collapsed into giddy, nearly delirious, peals of laughter. Tatsuki's fingers gripped the hem of his coat sleeve, curled into it at the elbow as he wiped at his eyes with his other hand, half-bent over still with laughter, and Dai fed that dangerous feeling again, felt it growing. Just a little.

The sun was long gone by now, and Dai was wondering if he could get away with proposing a McDonald’s takeaway for the promised dinner - on the docks, by the water, away from the glow of the street lights and store fronts, away from too many eyes - when he felt Tatsuki lightly knock their shoulders together. Dai glanced at him curiously, followed the path of his eyes to the small table set up outside of the nearby shopping mall entrance, to the old man sitting there with a candle and a placard for palm reading.

“One more stop?” Tatsuki suggested, and Dai couldn’t have said no to him, to the playful little smile on his lips, even if he’d wanted to.

It started off normally enough. They paid their thousand yen each. Tatsuki had gone first last time, so Dai held his left hand out first without question. His turn. The reader took it gently in one hand, running the fingertips of his other hand lightly over the creases and lines of Dai’s palm. The ticklish sensation sent an involuntary shiver through him.

The reader paused on the wide fork of two lines between Dai’s thumb and index finger and tapped his fingers where the lines crossed. “You’re confident. Bold. Not very cautious. A risk taker.” He trailed his fingers down along the line that curved towards his wrist. “You have incredible vitality. And you’re a generous lover.”

Dai couldn’t resist turning slightly to wiggle his eyebrows at Tatsuki, who snorted before tucking his face down into his scarf.

The reader moved up towards the top of Dai’s palm, tracing along the line starting just under his index finger, out towards his little finger. “You’re free with your feelings, you’re an emotional man. You’re earnest. Speak from the heart.” He paused, frowning slightly, squinting. “And you’re very lucky.”

“Huh?” Dai blinked, confused and yet, somehow, oddly comforted by the smile creeping onto the palm reader’s face.

“Your heart line is fully entwined with another. You have a soulmate.” He said simply, and Dai felt his face heating up. Tatsuki made a strange squeak beside him but quickly masked it by loudly clearing his throat.

Dai kept his eyes determinedly on the palm reader, forcing a small smile he hoped looked less flustered than he felt. “Lucky me.”

The reader nodded, looked back to his palm, moved his fingertips to the middle of Dai’s palm, still hovering at the top. And then he stopped. Frowned.

“No...no...not possible.” He muttered, and abruptly dropped Dai’s hand, thrusting his hand out at Tatsuki and staring at him imploringly. Tatsuki stared back, blinking, but gave him his left hand. The reader peered intently at his palm, ran his fingers down the middle of it, then dropped his hand as well, shaking his head slowly. “You need to leave. I can’t help you. You need someone stronger. An itako. Mount Osore. Please leave. Now.”

“Wait, what?” Dai balked, stunned and making no move to get up just yet.

“I can’t help you,” The man repeated sternly, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“We have just as much right to be here as anyone else.” Dai argued. Tatsuki remained silent beside him, staring down at his own open palms.

“You misunderstand me. You shouldn’t _be_ here. Your existence. It’s against the natural order.”

Tatsuki’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed as he spoke, “And what natural order is that?”

“The order of all things. Your existence is an anomaly. Both of you. I’ve said enough. Please go.”

“We’re going.” Tatsuki said coolly, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Thank you for your time.”

Dai just sat, mouth still slightly open, face twisted in confusion, looking back and forth between them, until Tatsuki kicked at the leg of his chair and startled him into motion. “Right, yeah, thank you.” He mumbled, bowing awkwardly as he stood and turned to follow Tatsuki as he walked at a brisk pace back to the main street.

Dai had to jog a couple of paces to catch up to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder but thinking better of it and drawing his hand back. Tatsuki glanced at him and offered him a tight, sad smile as Dai slowed to match his pace.

“We should talk about it.” Tatsuki started, before Dai could speak, “But preferably over a glass of wine, please.”

* * *

“So...trip to Mount Osore tomorrow then?”

Tatsuki now had his glass of red wine in front of him - Dai, a highball instead - as they sat crammed together, shoulder to shoulder, along the picnic-style table of the izakaya they’d ducked into after leaving the station. A short distance to stumble home. Just in case they wound up stumbling.

Dai grinned down into his drink and shrugged. “I guess so. You sure there aren’t any in Tokyo?”

“Mm. There are less than twenty of them left, and they rarely leave Mount Osore. Makes sense, given their work. They say the gates to the afterlife are there, after all. And the entrance to hell. It’s one of the most sacred places in Japan.” Tatsuki swirled the wine around in his glass before taking a large drink of it, sighing as he set the glass back down. “If you had told me a week ago I’d be spending tomorrow on the shinkansen, with you, Daisuke Takahashi, on our way to seek out traditional shamanesses on the advice of a palm reader, I would have laughed in your face, told you you’d lost your mind.”

“If you had told me a week ago that _anything_ we’ve experienced in the past two days was even possible, I’d have said the same,” Dai retorted as he flagged the nearest server down to place an order for another round of food and drink. When they were alone again, he gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, shaking the ice around in his quickly emptying glass. “You know the dreams like last night? That life.”

Tatsuki winced at the word “life,” still battling internally with the absurdity of it all. Speaking of the fantastical as if it were pragmatic, and rational. It had been easier, to shrug on acceptance and plow forward, when they’d been poring over books and newspaper clippings, with empirical data, solid evidence spread out before them. It felt much, much sillier over drinks and otsumami. “Yeah...what about it?”

“Satoko...do you think…” Dai seemed to wrestle with the question he wanted to ask, perhaps having his own inner battle with the way it sounded once it was said out loud, “Do you think she’s…”

“Our Satoko? Yeah. I do.” Tatsuki finished for him quietly, “But I don’t think it matters. I don’t think she remembers. I don’t think we should get her involved in this.”

They both fell silent against as the server returned with their orders, waiting until he’d left earshot again to resume.

“If she ever comes to us with questions, then of course.” Tatsuki continued, “But, if we’re accepting reincarnation as a fact, then of course we aren’t the only two caught in the cycle...we’re just...something has obviously gone wrong with ours. No need to involve anyone else.”

“Something…” Dai mused, rubbing at his chin. “Do you think it has something to do with the red string, from that dream? The one we had in Sochi? And again the other night?”

Sochi. His chest tightened at the mention, but he didn’t want to show it, quickly swallowing another drink of his wine to mask the way he knew his face must have twitched. “I think that might have everything to do with it. If it is what we think it is. If the mythos around it is accurate.”

“Destined lovers,” Dai said dramatically, clutching his chest with one hand, taking an equally dramatic sip of his highball with the other. “It’s terribly romantic. Speaking of romantic, you seeing anyone?”

Dai snickered as Tatsuki choked, then sputtered, dribbling wine over his lips and back into the glass, wiping frustratedly at his chin. 

“That is really none of your business.” Tatsuki snapped as he dabbed the spilled drops up from the tabletop with his hand towel, cheeks slightly pink, “But no. I’m. I’m really busy.”

“Yeah, me too.” Dai said nonchalantly. Tatsuki wasn’t fooled, and Tatsuki glared warily at him, at the mischievous, teasing look in his eye, bracing himself already for whatever ridiculous thing was going to come out of his mouth next.  “What about hooking up?”

And there it was. He could tell Dai was a little tipsy, could tell how pleased he was with himself from the stupid big grin on his face as he waved the server over again. “That’s really, _really_ none of your business.” Tatsuki could feel his cheeks getting redder, but the wine was maybe making his tongue a little looser, his sensibilities a little duller, because he added, softly, once the server had gone again, “But no. If you must know.”

“I must.” Dai said with as serious a tone and face as he could manage, but the grin made its way back onto his face as he added his own admission, a little softer, “And same here.”

The conversation drifted from topic to topic from there, another light-hearted catching up, another pleasant distraction. Better than a comfortable silence, a nice change from discussing the more pressing matters at hand. A few more orders stretched into a few more hours than Tatsuki had planned. Dai’s face was growing more and more flushed, eyes a little red. Any nudges he made, with his shoulder, with his elbow, were lasting longer, and longer, before he’d pull back away. Tatsuki found he minded less and less each time.

They were on their last orders for the night - for real, this time - when Dai brought it up again, resting his chin on his hand, eyes unfocused and gazing out at something Tatsuki couldn’t see. “Hey, Macchi...you remember Sochi?”

Tatsuki wasn’t sure what hurt more, hearing that name again, with Dai acting as if it didn’t carry its own weight every time it fell from his lips, or having to think about Sochi and everything that came with it, for the second time in one night. “Of course.” He muttered, “What a stupid question.”

Dai laughed, shaking his head slightly, “Sorry. Umm. I just.” He took the last swallow of his drink, letting out a satisfied gasp and pushing the empty glass away with both hands, oddly focused on the task. “You were the only good thing about Sochi, for me. You know? I just want you to know that.”

Unfair. Unfair, unfair, unfair. What was the point, telling him that now? What purpose did it serve, other than to make them both hurt? Tatsuki tried to quell his sudden temper, and his suddenly quickened heartbeat. He eyed Dai suspiciously, but there were no tells on his face, there was nothing but a bare, open honesty. One that just made his words twist the knife deeper.

“When I lost you, I just spiralled.” Dai added, staring down at his hands for a moment before looking up to meet Tatsuki’s eyes.

“Yes, I know. How I could I ever forget you moping aggressively at me all summer?” Tatsuki chided, suddenly wanting desperately to lighten the mood, to steer away from the emotions bubbling up in his chest now.

“It worked though, didn’t it?” Dai teased right back, smile back on his face, his implication bringing the blush back to Tatsuki’s.

“You’re so annoying,” Tatsuki laughed in spite of himself, rolling his eyes as he swigged the last bit of his wine. “Come on. Let’s go, it’s late.”

Dai paid, as promised, and they headed out the front door, into the narrow alleyway the izakaya resided in. They’d barely made it out of the door before Tatsuki felt Dai close, too close, behind him, breath a hot whisper on his ear, his neck, stirring his hair as he breathed out another “Hey, Macchi,” this one in a low, dangerous tone Tatsuki knew all too well, one that sent a tiny shiver up his spine.

He spun around to face him, preparing to ask him just _what_ he was doing so close and _why_ , ready to launch a last stand, a final defense, against what he knew, deep down, was about to happen, and what he knew, with certainty, he’d be helpless to resist. But the look in Dai’s eyes, the want and the hunger there, stopped the words in his throat. Too late, already. Two steps back and his back was knocking against the closed shutter of the opposite building, Dai’s hand was slapping loudly against the metal, making it shake, and his face was getting closer, so much closer.

And when their lips pressed together, the thrill that ran through his entire body was stronger than the guilt, stronger than the shame of giving in again. A feral sound he didn’t recognize, aching and desperate, escaped from his mouth as he grabbed Dai’s shirt in his fists and yanked him closer. The guttural sound Dai made in response, somewhere between a groan and a growl, sent another shiver through him, one that made even his fingertips feel like they were tingling, electric. Dai’s free hand moved to stroke his neck, cup his face, and he felt the pleasant sting of Dai’s teeth on his lower lip, nipping, tugging, seeking to deepen their kiss.

And he was ready to allow it, ready to give in to the fire building between them, the fire that had never really gone out, ready to wind up alone and burned again, just to get close, even for a little while. But a loud, piercing yowl cut through the night air, a jarring sound, a sound that immediately brought to mind the howling torrent of screams on the rocky Kamakura beach. So they broke apart, eyes wide and adrenaline pumping, searching frantically for the source, bodies on edge and ready to run.

But the culprits revealed themselves: two cats hissing and chasing each other down the alley. The relief that swept through Tatsuki was short-lived, followed immediately by a crippling flood of regret, its edges tinged with a bitter resentment, a pointed self-loathing. Stupid. Foolish. Weak. He turned on his heel before Dai could see his face, walking briskly towards the main street, hoping that said enough, praying Dai would take the hint.

The thick silence hanging between them on the walk back to the apartment told him that he had.

The air stayed tense, uncomfortable, as they entered Tatsuki’s apartment, remained as they prepared for bed. Dai was hovering, fidgeting, opening his mouth and hesitating, closing it again. He finally managed to speak when Tatsuki was pulling back the covers of the bed, clearing his throat first so Tatsuki had to pause, smoothing the covers back down before turning around to meet his eye. And he wished he hadn’t, right away, because Dai looked worse than guilty, Dai looked defeated, and a little pathetic, like a kicked puppy. It made everything feel that much worse.

“Should I, um…” Dai gestured with his head to the couch, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot.

Tatsuki sighed, heavily, turning back around to resume getting into bed, sliding towards the wall. “No. It’s fine. Just. Don’t do that again.”

He stayed on his side, facing the wall, and listened for the sound of Dai’s footsteps, slow and cautious across the floor, waited for the lift of the quilt, for the dip of the mattress. In spite of all the tension, coiled up in his body, in the space between them, hanging off every breath, it still brought an odd sort of comfort, having him there. Right now, he hated that.

“I-”  
  
“Don’t, Dai.” Tatsuki’s interjection was strained, terse. “Please.”

“Alright.” A quiet mumble back, still mournful somehow. Nearly apologetic.

And he didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to get into it, right now. But leaving it there didn’t sit well, either, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“It’s a bad idea.” He settled on, short and sweet. Simple. Succinct.

Dai took a breath, as if he were going to speak, to argue. But instead he held it there, in the air between them, in the foot of space between them on the bed. Then let it out without saying a word. Tatsuki closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. Tried not to think about the other sour taste, the one on his lips, the lingering flavor of whisky and lemon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave some love and feedback if you can, it helps so much! <3 
> 
> For more of the Yakuza/Artist lifetime, please check out the sidefic, [Blood & Ink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20015254/chapters/47391943)! 
> 
> There are a lot of big thanks for this chapter...  
> *[capra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capra), for the tarot card reading and the intense beta-reading!  
> *[unos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unos/), for allowing Tatsuki to borrow "moping aggressively"  
> *[ryku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rkyu/) and [SuperLinh2701](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superlinh2701/) for extensive kanji-building, location scouting, poetry scouring, and history combing sessions.  
> *[noona96n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noona96n), for the secret mission...you know the one.  
> *[marmee_ginny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmee_ginny) & [halfjoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfjoker) for the beta (my many eyes <3).  
> And as always, everyone at KSSC & elsewhere, for the cheerleading and encouragement. Thank you. <3


	4. Sakura, Ash

_I don't know what to do_  
_To do with your kiss on my neck_  
_I don't know what feels true_  
_But this feels right so stay a sec_  
_Yeah, you feel right so stay a sec_  
  
_And let me crawl inside your veins_  
_I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain_  
_It's not like me to be so mean_  
_You're all I wanted_  
_Just let me hold you_  
  
_Like a hostage_  
-Billie Eilish, Hostage

  
wait.  
do not love me like i love you.

it is nothing like the first sip of coffee in the morning.  
it is nothing like the summer sun on your skin.

it is nothing like your laughter.

there is nothing soft about the way i love you.

-nural ak

 

##  **SEPARATE**

#### IV. SAKURA, ASH

 _Daisuke spied Minamoto no Eizan out of the corner of his eye, across the courtyard, under the blooming sakura tree. He tried to keep Eizan in his peripheral while his sisters continued their chatter, their fingers and combs spreading his hair fully down and out over his back, separating it, working it into the twists and loops he hadn’t worn since his childhood._ _Joining in their bubbly laughter and hushed whispers over the latest court gossip was a pleasant enough way to spend an afternoon, but the arrival of Eizan gave Daisuke other ideas._

_Once his sisters had finished tying the two ponytails they’d made up and around, forming loose loops that hung from just below his ears to his shoulders, tails hanging down behind them, Daisuke took his leave. He took his time crossing the courtyard, keeping a leisurely pace, feigning a casual disinterest as he approached Eizan. As if his eventual destination was merely accidental. Eizan, for his part, was pretending not to notice Daisuke’s slow, meandering approach, keeping his focus on the sakura blossoms, inspecting them carefully._

_“Minamoto no Eizan...are you enjoying the sakura?” Daisuke opened casually, reaching up to grasp the branch Eizan was looking at, turning it gently closer to Eizan’s face._

_“I am.” Eizan replied simply, turning to face Daisuke and bowing in greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Prince Getsuei?”_

_Daisuke smiled slyly as he plucked a sprig of sakura from the branch. “I’m curious about you, Minamoto no Eizan.”_

_“Oh?” Eizan’s brow twitched up, his eyes following Daisuke’s hands as he carefully selected another tiny cluster of sakura to snap off from the branches of the tree. “What is there about me to be curious about?”_

_“Your name, for a start. It’s so sad. I wonder why you would choose such a name. I wonder if your true name is as sad as ‘eternal tragedy’.” Daisuke smiled a little wider at the way Eizan’s cheeks started coloring, a subtle and delicate shade of pink to match the sakura Daisuke held in his palm. But he remained silent, watching Daisuke carefully and without reply, so Daisuke continued, “Would it help if I gave you my true name first? It’s Daisuke.”_

_“D-Daisuke no kimi.” Eizan stammered, still visibly taken aback._

_“Just Daisuke is enough.” Daisuke smirked, continuing on with no intention of being any less forward. He lifted one of the sprigs from his palm and held it up next to Eizan’s face, just above his ear. “I would like to hear you call me like this, sometime. When we’re alone.”_

_Eizan took a small, startled gasp of breath as Daisuke tucked the spring under the strap of his kanmuri, so quickly that Daisuke wouldn’t have noticed it at all if he weren’t so close. Daisuke continued gazing at him expectantly, still waiting for his reply._

_It took the flustered Eizan a moment to catch on before he cleared his throat and answered, “Tatsuki...my true name is Tatsuki.”_  
_  
“Tatsuki…” Daisuke repeated, slowly, rolling the name out over his tongue. He mirrored his decorative action on the other side of Tatsuki’s face, tucking the other cluster of flowers there, letting his fingertips linger against Tatsuki’s cheek for just a heartbeat too long, “I know it was you.”_

_“Do you now?” Tatsuki replied calmly as he reached up to the branch next to them, snapping off two more sprigs of sakura._

_“I was surprised,” Daisuke said as he watched him carefully, struggling now to keep his own breaths even and calm as Tatsuki gently took one of the loops of hair in his palm. Tatsuki tried weaving one of the springs through the loose hair at the bottom of it, frowning as the hair parted, unable to hold the pink flowers safely in place._

_“What surprised you?” Tatsuki slid his hand up to where Daisuke’s sisters had tied the ribbons that secured the loop and the falling ponytail in place, held it gingerly as he wove one of the sprigs through the knots._

_“Your passion. Your jealousy.”_

_Tatsuki’s eyes flickered to meet his for a second, before focusing again on the other loop, and something behind them gave Daisuke pause, made him feel breathless as his heart skipped a beat. If he’d had any doubts Tatsuki had been the anonymous sender of the giant branch of tsubaki flowers and the accompanying poem, that look would have erased them completely. But he was already sure._

_“Now I suppose we should arrange a meeting. That’s the next step after all, isn’t it?” Daisuke pressed forward, dropping his voice just a little bit lower, in case of curious ears wandering by too closely in the surrounding courtyard._

_Tatsuki’s fingers paused for moment in Daisuke’s hair, where he’d been delicately tucking the other sprig of sakura, parallel to the first, woven through the knot of the other loop. “That would be brazen, and dangerous, wouldn’t it?” He questioned back, fingers moving again to secure the flowers before pulling his hands back. “If it were me, I would think such a move supremely foolish.”_

_“As foolish as decorating the prince’s hair in the public courtyard, for anyone passing by to see?” Daisuke fired back, cocking one eyebrow as his lips curved into a playful smile._

_“Perhaps.” Tatsuki averted his eyes, smiling as well as he bowed respectfully to Daisuke. “Will I see you for our afternoon lesson?”_

_“You will.” Daisuke promised, smile gentling but not disappearing._

_“Well, then,” Tatsuki touched one of the sprigs tucked up over his ear lightly, still smiling faintly, nodding again as he began to turn away. “Until we meet again.”_

_The scene melted away in the blink of an eye, melted into night. The stars now lit the courtyard, their light reflecting off the small pond in the furthest corner from Daisuke, where he stood in his socks, on the platform outside Tatsuki and sensei’s office door. He was dressed simply now, for bed, his court robes replaced by a much simpler yukatabira. The flowers and loops were gone from his hair, which now sat in a haphazard bun low on the back of his neck, long strands already escaping and framing his face._

_There was still a light, glowing faintly through the wooden slats, a lone candle of a late night worker. He decided not to knock, instead opting to let himself in, as quietly as possible, not keen to alert anyone else in the palace that he was missing from his own chambers, apart from the man he suspected was inside the office right now._

_And his suspicions were correct. There was no sign of their sensei, the one hired to educate Daisuke in finer literature and poetry, the one Tatsuki also studied under, who had come here with him. Just a candle set inside a caged lantern on sensei’s desk to light the room just enough for Tatsuki, who was sitting on his knees, bent over the other desk, his desk, poring over various scrolls and pages of prose. Tatsuki looked up, startled, as Daisuke entered the room, quickly sliding the door closed again behind him and leaning back against the wall so he was facing Tatsuki._

_“You shouldn’t be here.” Tatsuki’s voice was clipped, formal. He was still dressed in his court attire, but his kanmuri and the sprigs of sakura had been placed carefully aside near the lantern on their sensei’s desk. His hair was longer than Daisuke had expected, and thicker, the ends just passing his shoulders and curling up in wide sections._

_“You’re the one who summoned me here.” Daisuke countered, pushing himself off from the wall._

_“You seem awfully convinced of that.” Tatsuki eyed him warily as he took a step closer, voice still cool and measured._

_“Why continue to deny it, now that I’m here, and we’re alone?” Daisuke asked in earnest, frustration creeping in on the edges of his tone. The tension in the room, in the space between them, felt thick, pulsing with its own lifeforce, its own heartbeat. Building and building and nearing an inevitable breaking point. The very air felt coiled with the energy._

_Tatsuki looked him dead in the eye as he took another step forward. “It wouldn’t be your life at risk if you fancied such an affair.”_  
  
_"They’d have to catch us first.” Daisuke offered as a reassurance, stepping closer again, closing the distance so he now stood directly before Tatsuki, with only the desk remaining between them. “And then they’d have to get through me to get to you.”_  
_  
“What do you actually want from me, Daisuke no kimi?” Now Tatsuki was the one who sounded a little exasperated, looking up at Daisuke with an open confusion, a frustration. His eyes were dark, and challenging. His posture was tense. Even under the layers of robes Daisuke could tell his body was primed and taut like a readied bowstring._

_“Everything.” Daisuke said simply, bending over the desk and placing two fingertips underneath Tatsuki’s chin. Tatsuki’s eyes closed briefly, a shiver running through him as Daisuke tilted his face up. As they came closer and closer to crossing a point of no return. “I want to kiss you breathless. I want to learn all of your secrets, and make them mine too.” Daisuke sat down on his knees across from Tatsuki, slowly withdrawing his hand as he did. His gaze remained steadfast, locked with Tatsuki’s, watching the way his eyes widened, the way his lips parted slightly. He recorded every shaky breath, every flutter of Tatsuki’s eyelashes, as he listened to Daisuke’s confession._

_Daisuke tilted his head to the side, Tatsuki’s subtle but clear reactions emboldening him further. “I want to hear the way my name, just my name, and nothing else, sounds from your lips, and in all sorts of ways.”_

_“But why me?” Tatsuki’s voice was so soft and low it was nearly a whisper, eyes searching Daisuke’s face as if he could find his answer there, “You could have anyone you wanted, so why me?”_  
_  
“I don’t know.” Daisuke answered honestly, bringing his hands up from his lap to grip the edge of the desk. “All I know is that I want you like I’ve never wanted anything else.”_

_The tension snapped. Daisuke flung the desk and everything on it aside, papers flying into a scattered cloud, scrolls clattering to the floor. Tatsuki didn’t have time to react, let alone protest, because Daisuke’s hands were immediately fisting in his robes, Daisuke was pulling him forward and down, down onto the wooden floor. And those were Daisuke’s lips crushed against his, plump and sweet, like summer fruit. Those were Daisuke’s hands, tugging at his obi, shoving at the layers of his court robes, seeking his skin._

_And Tatsuki responded in kind, and eagerly, pulling Daisuke closer, hands probing, roaming underneath his lightly tied yukatabira, fingers clutching and nails digging in when he found the bare flesh he sought. Daisuke gasped at the feel, breaking their kiss to roll Tatsuki onto his back, pinning him against the floor._

_But before he could return his attention to Tatsuki’s lips, they were parting, and his eyes were sparkling, wide and a little afraid, as one simple word fell from them. “Daisuke…”_

_Daisuke froze, his own eyes widening in surprise, a smile stretching across his face. “Yes...just like that.”_

_“Daisuke,” Tatsuki mumbled again, but this time against his mouth. “Daisuke,” but this time, whispered against his neck. “Daisuke!”, but this time, frantic and barely strung together as his hips arched up and Daisuke’s rocked down._

* * *

Dai’s eyes blinked open slowly, mind still hazy and confused, still stuck in between two different worlds. Tatsuki, beside him, eyes bleary with sleep and squinting against the morning sun. Tatsuki, underneath him, biting back a moan, robes pulled roughly apart, exposing the slender curve of one shoulder in the orange glow of the candlelight. He blinked lazily, watching Tatsuki do the same, gentling awake. It was nice, drifting through the fog of memory, the fog the morning, instead of startling awake, even if it took a moment for his eyes to focus and his brain to kick in.

Tatsuki groaned and rolled over onto his back, throwing an arm across his eyes to try and block out the pesky and persistent morning light slotting in through the blinds.

“What is it with you and my desks? What have they ever done to you?” Tatsuki grumbled, lifting his elbow slightly to peer out at Dai with narrowed, accusatory eyes. “Stay away from my desk at Waseda, we have laptops now.”

Dai grinned in spite of himself, pride and heart still wounded from the night before, but grateful for Tatsuki’s casual return to form all the same. Even if it made his chest ache.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Tatsuki’s smirk stretched into a yawn. He pushed himself upright and stretched leisurely, while Dai didn’t even bother trying not to stare. Being rebuffed had done nothing at all to quell any fondness, and looking at Tatsuki now, even with a tousled bedhead and eyes still heavy, clouded with sleep, was doing nothing to quell it either.  

Tatsuki tilted his head as he stretched his neck and threw him a smile, one that also did absolutely nothing to help. “We should get up. The earlier we get to the shinkansen the better. We have a long journey ahead.”

* * *

It would actually take one shinkansen, two trains and a taxi to get from Tokyo station to Mount Osore.

Flying, Tatsuki worked out, and explained to Dai on their walk to the station, would have taken _just_ that much longer, and would make it into a two-day trip instead of one overnight. Since time was quickly becoming something they couldn’t spare much of - whether for fear of the shinigami appearing again, or fear of looming commitments and an undoubtedly bumpy return to normal, everyday life - they decided to stick to the shinkansen. This way, they could make it in about five hours, with daylight to spare.

Dai managed to find the perfect balance between whining, yawning and dropping hints about how they could really use some caffeine for the journey, and how their blood sugar must be low, so that when they reached the ticket office, Tatsuki let him run off to scout out donuts and coffee while he stood in line with their shared overnight bag, throwing him only one “tch” and accompanying eye roll as he left. Success.

By the time Tatsuki got through the line and acquired their tickets, Dai was back, clutching one cardboard tub of brightly iced and sprinkled donuts and holes with one hand and squeezing two hot coffees against his chest with the other. Just in time to hustle through the station to make it to their platform in time. One perilous moment where the donuts nearly spilled onto the floor of the shinkansen as Dai stumbled into Tatsuki’s back as they hurried to board. But they were safely settled into their seats in no time.

Tatsuki kept their backpack between his feet and his own coffee between his hands, while Dai triumphantly opened his tray table from the seatback in front of him and placed the bucket of donuts and his own coffee on it with gusto. Tatsuki sighed at him, in a way that was meant to reprimand him, for being too childish, or for being far too energetic, but at the very corners of his lips there was a hint of a fond smile lingering. And when Dai held the bucket of donuts out for him, he didn’t say no, opting instead to pick up the powdered donut hole perching on top of the pile, daintily between two fingers.

“So,” Tatsuki started, after finishing his snack - but not before pausing to quickly suck the sugar off his fingertips, making Dai’s breath catch in his throat. Evil. If he’d been eating or taking a sip of his coffee he would have choked. From the smug, cat-like smirk on Tatsuki’s face, Dai figured he knew it, too.

“I have a working theory. About why so many of our lives were so short.” Tatsuki continued, his smirk fading. He looked hesitant now, and a little sad.

Dai nodded, gesturing with his hand for Tatsuki to keep going, mouth full of his own donut of choice now. _Go on._

“I don’t have much to go on, of course. It’s just. A thought.” Tatsuki prefaced. Almost like he wanted Dai to tell him he was wrong. “I think it’s...scaled. If you will.”  
  
“Scaled?” Dai parroted back, mumbling around the last bite of his donut.

“Mm. I think that, maybe, the more...the more intense. Our relationship. The faster they come.”

Dai stared blankly back at Tatsuki and took a long sip of his coffee, trying to will his brain awake.

Tatsuki sighed. “Of the lifetimes we’ve been able to confirm so far, what’s something the ones we’ve confirmed the end of all have in common?”

“Us.” Dai replied instantly, with confidence. Tatsuki’s eyes narrowed, staring evenly back at him, waiting for him to expand. He held the gaze and slowly reached for another donut, a silent gesture of tapping out.

“Yes, but what about us?” Tatsuki prompted. Dai just stared and took a bite of the donut now in hand, so Tatsuki sighed and continued. “From what we’ve seen so far, and been able to verify, we seem to die sooner, the more...passionate we are. The more intensely together we are. Do you remember what the palm reader called us? An anomaly?”

Dai nodded, holding the bucket of donuts out to Tatsuki again. Tatsuki took one and held it in one hand, coffee in the other, considering them both for a moment and then nodding to himself.

“I think we must give off some sort of signal, to them, to the shinigami. Maybe not when we find each other. Maybe not right away.” Tatsuki moved the coffee and the donut closer together, until they were touching. “Maybe we both have some sort of signature, some sort of marking, as an individual anomaly. But then, we get together…” Tatsuki tapped the coffee against the donut a couple times for emphasis, “And that signature is doubled, the signal gets stronger. They come sooner.”

Dai frowned, forehead creasing. “So the only way to stay alive is to stay apart?”

Tatsuki turned back to face Dai, offering him a sad smile and a shrug as he began to eat his donut.

“Do you think we’re only still alive now because we didn’t...didn’t stay together?” Dai hated how small his own voice sounded.

Tatsuki’s words from the night before drifted back into Dai’s mind. _It’s a bad idea._ He’d assumed Tatsuki just meant all the usual reasons why it was a bad idea, there were enough of those to choose from, but if he’d already been thinking about this, then…

“I don’t know. Like I said, it’s just a theory. What Kiku said to us fits, then, doesn’t it?” Tatsuki gnawed briefly on his lower lip. “You remember? ‘They’ll come now.’ She was an anomaly, too. A demi-immortal. Maybe all three of us gathering in one place like that, she must have known. Known it would draw their attention.”

An almost dizzying sick feeling ran through Dai, sank into his bones, into the pit of his stomach. “I don’t really want to think about Kiku.”

"Sorry." Tatsuki winced, throwing Dai an apologetic look. "How are you doing with all that anyway?"

Dai shrugged, eyes drifting away from Tatsuki’s, back down to stare intently at the remaining donut collection instead. Something about looking at him while talking about this made him feel too vulnerable, too guilty. “I try not to think about it too much.”

Tatsuki didn’t say anything, waiting, instead, for Dai to keep going. Dai ran one hand through his hair, rubbed the back of his neck, It was awkward. Awkward to think about, awkward to talk about.

“I don’t know what it’s like for you. I don’t even know how to think about it, yet. All of it.” Dai said carefully. “When we’re dreaming I...I feel things. I feel...what I must have felt then. Emotionally. Physically.”

Tatsuki still didn’t speak, but Dai could see him nodding out of the corner of his eye.

“It was me, but it’s not me now. That’s somebody else, right? These memories, these feelings, they’re all second-hand. So it should be easy, right? To separate them, and what they felt, from me, and what I feel.” Dai paused and looked back over at Tatsuki again with a bitter smile on his face, “The only constant is you. And my fee-”  
  
“Stop right there.” Tatsuki said, holding up his free hand in protest. “I’m not asking you about me, I’m asking you about Kiku. And I have a suggestion for you.”

Dai blinked, annoyed but not surprised at being interrupted. “I’m listening.”

“It might help to think less about ‘I’ and more about ‘he’ - do you understand? When it happened, you said, I, I, I - I’ve been doing it too, we’ve been talking about it as if these feelings, these memories, are ours, as if they belong to us. But they’re not. We’re just privy to them, for reasons we don’t understand yet. Those were different people, with different bodies, with different minds. Does that help?”

Dai shrugged and looked ahead again, taking another sip of his coffee. “I already was thinking like that, kind of. I had to. Before I started googling up family trees and descendents and driving myself crazy.” He circled his wrist, swirling what was left of his coffee around the bottom of the cardboard cup. “Another life, right? Everything is different, everything about us is different...except us. It’s still us.” He chewed his lip for a second, turned back to face Tatsuki, so he could watch his face. “Different lives, same souls.”

Tatsuki groaned and flopped back against his seat, hard enough that his head bounced a little off the headrest. “I am not getting into the nature of the soul with you right now.”

“You’re telling me the philosopher doesn’t wanna philosophize?” Dai teased, holding out the bucket of donuts again in silent penance.  
  
“Not right now.” Tatsuki’s voice was suddenly softer - muted, in a way that made Dai do a double-take, made his breath stick in his throat like the caramel filling of his last donut. “Not when what I was really asking is if you’re alright.”

Dai stared back, brain slowly processing, still holding the bucket of donuts out in the air, frozen in place until Tatsuki reached out to take another one and broke the spell.

“Yeah...yeah...how’d you put it? Alright as I can be. Thanks.” Dai mumbled, cheeks suddenly feeling hot.

Tatsuki smiled, cheeks puffed out around his mouthful of donut. “Good.”

* * *

Small talk took over the rest of the shinkansen journey, and the next train after. On the platforms in between. Dai’s new short, Tatsuki’s upcoming presentation. _How’s Mo-ko doing, I know you have photos so show me. What about you, why haven’t you gotten a cat yet, now that you’re retired?_ They drifted, sometimes, back into the past. The immediate one. _Did you think I wouldn’t notice, what you did with Lacrimosa? I wanted you to notice, why do you think I did it?_

It wasn’t until the third train, the final train, that the talk dried up, trailed off. The first chance of the day for tiredness to creep in, to take over, as the train rolled over the tracks towards Ominato at a steady, gentle pace, rhythmic, lulling them both into sleep.

_The floor of the shed was cold, packed earth. The rain was constant, beating down against the roof, bringing a further chill in. There weren’t any jail buildings on the palace grounds. This appeared to be some sort of storage building, repurposed as a makeshift jailer’s cell. The sentence wasn’t even official. It couldn’t be. Execution had been outlawed for 233 years, after all. This was a decision fueled by passion, by greed. One that made him a casualty in a war for power between brothers. An off-record casualty at that. A motive, for a coup. A pawn._

_Tatsuki’s nails scraped against the earthen floor, against the dirt, as he balled them into fists. He’d known. He’d known the second Daisuke had leaned forward, pulled him to the floor and crushed their lips together, how this could end. Would end. Was ending. He’d known, and he’d let himself fall anyway. He should only blame himself. Not Daisuke, and his foolish impulses, his arrogance. Not Daisuke and his beaming smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle up at the sides, the one that showed off his snaggletooth, his charm point. Not Daisuke, and his stupid, giggly laugh, his strong grip in contrast to his soft hands, his gentle sighs, his needful ones._

_“Tatsuki...”_

_And not his voice, the sweet sound of his true name falling from those wicked, sinful lips, he could hear it now, almost like-_

_“Tatsuki!”_

_Tatsuki rolled over to face the door of the small shed, the slivers of moonlight coming in through the narrow, barred window at the top of it. There were those soft hands, wrapped around the bars, there was that bewitching face, those amber brown eyes, wide, pleading. Tatsuki scrambled onto his knees, crawled across the floor, pushing himself to his feet at the door, hands slapping against the wood before reaching the bars, curling around Daisuke’s. Daisuke let out a tiny sob of relief at the contact._

_“What are you doing here?” Tatsuki whispered, disbelieving his own eyes, his own sense of touch._

_“I’m here for you.” Daisuke’s voice was shaking, matching the tremble in his fingertips._

_“What?” Tatsuki’s voice cracked on the question, hoarse and parched from confinement, strained from the shock of seeing Daisuke again._

_“We have to go. We have to go now.” Daisuke pulled his hands away reluctantly, working at something on the other side of the door._

_Tatsuki tightened his fingers around the circular wooden bars, croaked out a whisper, “How?”_

_There was a loud splintering sound on the other side of the door, a grunt of effort and a celebratory cry from Daisuke._  
_  
The door swung open, and there stood Daisuke, hair already slick against his face in the rainfall, kosode starting to stick to his chest, which was heaving with the effort but still stuck out proudly. He reached out to Tatsuki, with an open-mouthed grin as he panted for breath, looking every inch the hero as he said, “Come on. I’m not letting them take you from me.”_

_Tatsuki took his outstretched hand and stumbled forward gratefully into his embrace, still shaking, ignoring the pain of the rough ground underneath his feet, clad only in tabi since his abrupt imprisonment. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into Daisuke’s shoulder, feeling the wet fabric against his skin, feeling the pounding of Daisuke’s heart, the tremor in his body as they clung to each other._

_“They’ll kill you too, for this.” He whispered as he pulled back, Daisuke’s fingers still twisted in his hair._  
  
_Daisuke moved his hands to stroke Tatsuki’s face, lips tugging up into a confident smirk. “They’ll have to catch us first.”_

_Tatsuki sobbed out a laugh then, and Daisuke planted his hands firmly against his cheeks, pulling him into a kiss. One they shouldn’t, couldn’t, indulge in for long, but for now, just for one precious moment, they let the world fall away around them. Daisuke pulled back first, motioning to a pair of boots lying by his feet._

_"Put these on. We need to run."_

_Daisuke led the way, well-acquainted from his own adventures with all the best paths to get out of the palace grounds with the least monitoring, the best chances of avoiding detection. They crept at first, hanging back against walls and in shadows, until they were finally outside and could make a break for the forest, hand-in-hand, a warm touch to ward against the cold rain still pouring down, turning the ground to treacherous mud under their feet._

_The canopy of the forest provided only a modicum of cover from the rain. The wet ground was still soft underneath them, another hazard amongst the twisting roots and large stones littering the way. It was a miracle, really, that they made it as far as they did before Tatsuki felt his foot catch underneath one such tangle of roots, felt his heart sink and his hope with it as he fell, fingers slipping from Daisuke’s grasp. He fell the wrong way, so wrong, ankle making a horrific sound, pain shooting up his leg as he smacked into the ground with a loud cry._

_Daisuke fell to his knees beside him, immediately hoisting Tatsuki’s arm around his shoulders, helping him back to his feet as he cursed, tears mixing and becoming indistinguishable from the streaks of rain running down his face. He took one tentative step forward and a searing pain shot up his leg again the second it bore his weight. He collapsed against Daisuke, an angry and frustrated sob tearing itself from his throat._

_It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair._

_Daisuke’s hand cupped his face and turned it towards him, muffling his next sob with a firm kiss._

_“We’re not giving up here, okay?” Daisuke mumbled against his mouth, “I’ll carry you.”_

_Tatsuki looked at him searchingly, bewildered, as he pulled back and gave him a reassuring smile. He couldn’t tell if it was only the rain on Daisuke’s face either._

_Daisuke crouched down before him, back facing him and arms out to his sides. “On my back. Hurry.”_

_Tatsuki wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands, smearing dirt across the corners, speckling his own cheeks with mud, caring very little about any of that as he hobbled forward. He draped himself carefully over Daisuke, arms looping around his neck and squeezing at his chest as Daisuke stood, locking his arms around Tatsuki’s legs. The extra weight made the mud squelch more vigorously around his feet, sucking them down further on each step. But he pushed forward, struggling on, as fast as he could with Tatsuki wrapped around him._

_Every step shook his legs, and even gentle motion sent jolts of pain out from his twisted, swollen ankle that made him wince and bury his face against Daisuke’s neck, not wanting to cry out anymore. Tired of crying. He grit his teeth, resigned to letting only the occasional whimper escape when he couldn’t bite them back anymore._

_Daisuke froze, stumbled, when they heard the distant sound of horses behind them. Panic gripped Tatsuki, squeezing like a vice around his heart, stealing his breath. They weren’t safe yet, they weren’t anywhere close to safe, still deep in the forest, heading for the nearby temple, but it wasn’t nearby enough, not yet. Daisuke cursed and looked frantically from side to side, searching desperately for a place to hide._

_The sound of the horses grew closer, and now they could hear the men, too, shouting to each other, to their horses. Daisuke turned, staggering as quickly as he could with his feet sinking in the mud, and gripped Tatsuki tighter._  
_  
“Hold on,” He whispered, and pitched them both sideways into a thriving patch of barberry._

_They rolled as they fell, branches, twigs, snagging at their clothes, scraping their exposed skin, the stinging almost immediately soothed by the wet mud and the drops of rain persistent enough to penetrate the underbrush. This would be enough, but only if they rode by quickly. This would be enough, but only if they weren’t tracking closely, looking for snapped branches and footprints in the mud. Tatsuki only realized then, laying still as they could, his body still gently throbbing from the impact, good leg pinned underneath Daisuke and starting to go numb, that Daisuke had deliberately thrown them on his “good” side, and he dug his fingers in a little tighter, clung a little bit closer._

_They stayed there, waiting, listening, until the sound of hoofbeats and the echoes of voices had faded completely. Daisuke’s hand patted his thigh and rolled them again, slowly. Tatsuki hugged him tightly as he pushed himself up onto his knees, then staggered back up to his feet, hands firmly gripping Tatsuki’s thighs against his waist._

_It felt like forever, before the edges of the forest came into view, but Tatsuki found he didn’t mind. Every second together felt stolen, clawed back from fate. So he savored them, savored every pant of breath and grunt of effort from Daisuke, savored the crisp distinct smell of the rain and the earthy aroma of the mud, underneath them and smeared across their clothes, their skin. Savored every jostle of his legs against Daisuke’s sides even though it hurt._

_Daisuke slowed his pace even further as the temple came into sight, stopping while they could still hide behind the trees at the border of the forest. He lowered Tatsuki down gently, lending him his side still, to help him support his weight. Tatsuki stared at him, stuck somewhere between awe and gratitude as Daisuke plucked a handful of rain-soaked leaves from the tree they were nearest to. He didn’t speak, not yet, just tilted Tatsuki’s chin up with one hand, wiping the mud from his face with the wet leaves as best he could with the other. Tatsuki closed his eyes, shivering under the touch, the sensation of the leaves against his face, feeling the chill start to seep into his skin, his bones, from their drenched clothes. Daisuke tapped his chin, pressed the leaves into his palm, and he opened his eyes again to return the favor._

_He dropped the leaves to push the strands of hair plastered to Daisuke’s face back, tucking them behind his ears. Daisuke mirrored him, hands moving up to make his equally presentable, as presentable as they could get in their current state. Tatsuki’s eyes roamed up and down Daisuke’s body, another doomed feeling sinking in with the chill._

_“How are we…” He mumbled, taking stock of every gap torn in the fabric, every smear of mud and dirt._

_“Leave it to me. Come on. I’ll help you walk.”_

_Tatsuki leaned gratefully into his side, two walking as one as they hobbled towards the temple, hopeful for at least a fuseya to rest in. Tatsuki stayed pressed to his side as he explained to the first monk they found they’d been out riding and the horse had spooked, throwing them, hurting Tatsuki’s ankle, ran off, left them deep in the forest. The monk didn’t say much, just prepared a change of clothes for them, folded stacks he carried as he led them to their lodgings._

_It was simple, small. But that was all they really needed. That, and each other, and they had that now, too, words falling away alongside their sodden clothes, seeing each other fully bare for the first time, against all custom, taboos broken, forgotten. Irrelevant. It definitely wasn’t rain on his face, now, as they sank to their knees, down onto the straw mats, down into each other, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered, only this, and every second of this second chance._

_After, after they’d lost and found themselves in each other again, one more time than they thought they’d ever have, they dressed in the clean, much warmer robes provided by the monk, and laid together on the straw mats, entwined. Tatsuki draped his sore leg over Daisuke’s, cradled Daisuke’s head against his chest, running his fingers through his hair. They whispered, whispered plans, and wishes, and apologies._

_The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, their eyes barely closing, when the doors to the room slid open without warning, soldiers who had crept down the corridor in their socks pouring into the small space, pulling them apart before they could even fully register what was happening, fingers suddenly grasping for empty space instead of each other. The sound seemed to drop out of the room, as if he’d been plunged underwater, even Daisuke’s repeated cries, strings of “No” interspersed with “Tatsuki” were deafened, muted, as time slowed down and he watched with wide eyes as Daisuke fought vigorously against the men grabbing hold of him. Even his own voice sounded alien, as Daisuke’s name fell from his lips, in between his cries for help, his pleas to let him go._

_The pain shot up his leg, joined by a new one, a sharp one, across the back of his skull, and everything turned black._

Tatsuki woke with a tiny jolt, with something soft tickling his cheek, the side of his mouth. It took a moment for the fog of sleep, of memories, to clear, for him to recognize that was Dai’s head on his shoulder, so that was Dai's hair touching his face. His heart kicked up in his chest, he felt the annoying flutter of butterflies in his stomach, nestling his cheek down and begrudgingly letting himself take a moment, just a little moment, to enjoy it.

"Hey, old man," he muttered, unsure if Dai was still lost in the dream, "Wake up before you drool on my shirt, please."

"M'awake." Dai grumbled back. "Thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself." Tatsuki quipped, lifting his head up and flicking the top of Dai's, snickering as Dai grunted, mumbled under his breath as he sat up and rubbed his face with both hands.

"Hey, Macchi…" Dai said after a moment, pulling his hands away from his face to stare down at his palms, brow wrinkled with a frown. "Do you think we're seeing more of the end because our time is running out?"

"No." Tatsuki's reply was quick, and firm. Dai's head snapped up, eyes curious and wide, to look at him directly as he continued. "Think about our last life. Even this one. More time together means more dreams. That's all. We weren't afraid last time, right?"

"Those guys weren't afraid of anything." Dai said pointedly, running a hand through his hair. "Do you ever wonder…" He paused, rubbing his jaw, eyes suddenly somewhere far away.

"What?" Tatsuki prompted gently, trying to bring him back down to earth.

Dai blinked and shook his head quickly. "Sorry. Do you ever think about our friends? From the last time. If…if they're still alive? And do they know we're alive?"

Tatsuki grimaced and shrugged, "Maybe. They would have noticed you if they watched the Olympics, maybe."

"And maybe you, too."

Tatsuki raised his eyebrows, "I only went once, and we didn't do so well. You went three times, and one of those was a bronze."

"If they found out about me they'd eventually find you too." Dai said softly, looking down at his hands again before he turned them over, drummed each on once against his legs. "Why haven't they reached out to us? Olive, Frankie…"

Tatsuki hadn't anticipated the way hearing those names would make him feel. It knocked the wind out of him a little, a sharp twist in his gut. Brief glimpses of memories from another life flashed through his mind. Olive, always bedecked in an array of colorful scarves and oversized glasses, nails painted to match her look of the day, fiercely creative, fiercely protective. Her concerned face, her hands on his shoulders, all bathed in a sultry red glow from the club lighting, lecturing him on that first night as he watched Dai swagger towards the door, ran his tongue out over his own lips, still kiss-swollen from being pressed up against the bathroom wall, Olive's concerns going in one ear and out the other. _"Are you listening to me?! He's bad news, just look at him! Tats, you can't see him again!"_

And Frankie, Frankie with his sweaters that were always just a little bit too big, his blond hair always effortlessly styled into big, poofy quiffs, always accessorizing with a dangling earring, but only in one ear. A passion for modern art and imported beers, and never one to turn down a dramatic dance-off on a night out. Frankie, who had been the peacemaker the first night Tatsuki brought Dai over for dinner, smoothly guiding the conversation while Olive glared daggers over bowls of noodles and salad, Dai squirming uncomfortably and Tatsuki kicking Olive's foot under the table.

He wondered if Dai had had those dreams, too. He wondered if bringing up Kiku had hurt like this. A tiny pang of guilt.

"What would they say?" He finally responded, "Hey, nice to meet you, I think you're the reincarnation of our dead friends? It would be a ludicrous thing to do."

Dai nodded, slowly, but he was gnawing on his lip again, fingers still tapping against the legs of his jeans, contemplative. He looked up to meet Tatsuki's eyes again, and there was something sad behind his eyes, something heavy and yearning. It gave Tatsuki pause, made his breath catch in his throat and something annoying flutter in his stomach again.

His voice was tiny and soft as he said, "Maybe we should. Reach out."

Tatsuki didn't have time to respond or to deal with the emotions _that_ suggestion sent through him, because now they were arriving at Ominato and it was time to move again. The view from the platform of Mount Osore, looming behind the green and white Hotel Folkloro that wouldn't look out of place in a fairytale, made them both pause, provided a clunky change of topic into scenery and Ghibli films. Away from old friends and other lives.

* * *

Check-in could have gone better. The receptionist had looked back and forth between them with a raised brow when they answered differently, in unison, to the simple question - how many rooms, single or twin? Dai's cheeks burned red around a sheepish grin and Tatsuki's eyes rolled so hard it was almost audible as she explained politely that a single bed couldn't be booked for two, but they could always push the beds together if they really wanted to.

One slightly awkward lunch break later and they had booked their taxi to Mount Osore, to check out the unique scenery, the Buddhist heaven and hell, before starting their search for an itako to consult tomorrow in earnest.

The smell of sulfur hit them first. It was overwhelming, making Dai wrinkle his nose and Tatsuki pull his scarf up over half his face while they adjusted to it. The taxi had left them off by the temple, and soon they were wandering, passing by the eerie piles of stones for the souls of dead children, colorful pinwheels dotting the landscape in sharp contrast to the ragged grey rocks cutting up through the earth.

They walked in silence, though Dai made a strange noise with his throat when they paused to look at the blood pond, a representation of hell with its red iron water. Tatsuki glanced at him them, asking without asking if he was alright. He nodded, shaking himself once before they continued, back the way they'd only just came by taxi, towards the bridge over the Sanzu no Kawa, their river Styx, the red bridge to the afterlife, looming over the broken wooden posts sticking out from the waters underneath, the bridge to nowhere.

Dai slowed his pace as they neared it, clearing his throat and reaching out to tug on Tatsuki's sleeve, to get him to stop. Tatsuki looked back at his curiously as he shook his head.

"I don't think we should get too close. Just in case."

Tatsuki pressed his lips together in a tight line, narrowing his eyes at Dai, clearly annoyed by the insinuation. But he sighed, sleeve relaxing in Dai's grip as the tension left his arms. "You're probably right," he said, lips twitching into a smile, "They might charge us a late fee, too. With interest."

Dai laughed, clapping his hand against Tatsuki's arm before pulling it back, motioning with his head back towards the temple grounds, towards the lake. "Let's go see Lake Usoriyama before we go back, yeah?"

Tatsuki hummed in agreement and turned on his heel, falling into step beside Dai as they travelled back.

The silence was comfortable but deep, both lost in thoughts they didn't want to voice right now. Darker rocks, jet black and vaguely threatening, started to take over the landscape, complete with vents of steam and sign posts warning them of the hot volcanic gases, and the pit vipers lurking unseen. Dai wondered, idly, which thoughts, which lives Tatsuki was lost in now as they approached the crystalline blue waters of the lake, but he didn't want to break the atmosphere, so he didn't ask.

They stood on the sandy shore for a while, taking in the beauty of the lake and the haunting piles of Jizo statues and more tiny bright pinwheels scattered across the beach. The water was deceptively beautiful, inviting, but too acidic, too poisonous, to even dip a toe in. Dai was sure there was some sort of metaphor, here, but he was feeling tired, now, and that sort of thing was more of Tatsuki's domain anyway, so he gave up trying, gave Tatsuki's shoulder a gentle squeeze and motioned with his thumb back towards the temple.

As they crested the first hill of their journey back they both froze in place, Tatsuki gasping beside him, fingers reaching out and digging into his wrist.

There was a tented structure, now, or maybe it had been there before and they hadn't noticed it on their way to the lake, but the solitary and motionless shinigami standing guard beside it made that feel unlikely. It didn't seem to notice them, arms staying flat at its sides, tattered wings remaining folded up behind its back. There was no animal skull covering its face, just a cracked, leather plague doctor's mask. Dai shivered, stepped closer to Tatsuki, feeling his pulse quickening and the adrenaline starting to pump through him with it.

"What do we do?" Tatsuki hissed in his ear, making him jump.

"I think we should go inside." Dai whispered back, wincing as Tatsuki's nails dug harder into his wrist.

"Are you crazy?! With that thing there?! We could be walking right to our deaths." Tatsuki whispered back rapid-fire, clearly shaken.

Dai laughed, and Tatsuki looked at him owlishly, bewildered. Dai just smiled back, moving his fingers to stroke against the soft inside of Tatsuki's wrist. "Then I'll just have to find you again. Come on. Let's check it out."

Tatsuki blinked rapidly, mouth slightly ajar and cheeks turning pink, looking at Dai like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to kiss him or hit him. Dai grinned and shook his wrist free from Tatsuki's grip so he could take his hand instead. He'd take it.

Tatsuki was still sputtering his disapproval but he let Dai lead him, only falling quiet as they passed the shinigami, both men eyeing it nervously, braced to run if it made a move. But it didn't, only its eyes moved to follow them as they approached the flaps of the rectangular tent, staying silent and immovable. Dai reached for the edge of the flap, but paused, hand hovering in the air. Tatsuki squeezed his hand. He nodded, looking over gratefully to Tatsuki for the reassurance.

"Here goes." He muttered, and they lifted the flap and stepped inside. "Hello? Sorry for the intrusion…"

"You! You've caused a lot of trouble, old man!" A shrill and stern voice burst out from the dark interior of the tent immediately, source unknown.

Their eyes were still adjusting to the dimmer light, taking in the makeshift room before them. There was a small table and two chairs just before them, the table covered in a spread of bizarre instruments and tools crafted from feather and bone, and two wooden dolls.Two chunky and old candles, already burned halfway through, were lit on both table ends, rivers of hardened wax running down and pooled around them. Behind the table stood an old woman, hands clasped behind her hunched back. Her hair was white, and tied back, nearly as white as her ceremonial robes. Her eyes were open but unseeing. An itako. She pulled her own chair out and sat down, folding her hands together on the table.

“Who?” Tatsuki’s voice was wary, wobbly, as if he was seeking confirmation he wasn’t sure he wanted. Dai gulped down the uneasy feeling starting to gather and stick in his throat.

"Daisuke-sama." The itako replied primly, with a nod in Dai’s direction.

" _Sama_?!" Dai’s mouth dropped open, staring stupidly at the smiling old woman before them, while Tatsuki took a literal and physical step back, undoubtedly with his mind reeling.

“Please, sit down, both of you,” The itako said simply, gesturing to the two chairs. “Some of what I have to tell you may be shocking, I don’t want you fainting.”

“How did you know we were here?” Dai muttered numbly as he pulled out his chair and sat down. Tatsuki clutched the back of his a moment longer before sitting, shaking his head and laughing to himself as he did.  
  
“I can smell souls as ancient as yours from miles away, Daisuke-sama.” The itako’s strange smile sent a tiny shiver up Dai’s spine. “And now that you’ve both been reincarnated again and again for over a thousand years, you stink of death.”

“A thousand years?!” Dai echoed, eyes growing wider, a dazed smile creeping onto his face. “Like, in a row? Together?”

"You're telling me I've been stuck with this idiot for _how_ many lifetimes?" Tatsuki groaned, pressing his fingers hard against his eyes. Dai’s smile broke into a wide, delighted grin.  

"Have some respect for Daisuke-sama!” The itako snapped, glaring in Tatsuki’s direction, her brow furrowing. “Insolent little priest, he gave up his godhood for you."

"Yeah! You should start offering me gyōza! Three times a day!" Dai chirped, crossing his arms and nudging Tatsuki with his elbow until Tatsuki dropped his hands from his face to give him a withering stare. He was having so much fun teasing Tatsuki that what the itako said took a moment to really register. He blinked, slowly, processing, as Tatsuki sighed and rubbed his temples, then turned back to face the itako with the confusion very apparent on his face. “Wait, what?”

The itako smirked, leaning forward on her elbows. “How much do you remember, Daisuke-sama?”

“We’ve been having dreams. That’s why we’re here.” Tatsuki mumbled, eyes following the itako’s hands as she reached for her irataka nenju, made up of large beads and small bones.

She smiled, wrapping it around her hands. “Let me tell you your own legend, then. It begins before humans invented time. With a kami who always had a reputation for being rather rebellious, mischievous - Daisuke-sama.”

“Kami…” Dai whispered to himself, rubbing the sides of his face. It sounded so stupid, so impossible. But…

“Daisuke-sama was a natural kami, enshrined in Aki-jingū. As such, he couldn’t travel very far from his true form, nor from his shrine, and he spent many centuries alone, fraught with boredom, with a dissatisfaction for his own existence. But a thousand years ago, something changed. Something caught Daisuke-sama’s attention.”

The itako paused, turning her head towards Tatsuki, her smile warm and gentle, almost motherly. Tatsuki drew in a small flutter of breath, fingers moving to clutch the edge of the table.

“You, little priest. Inexperienced and low in rank as you were, something about you caught his eye. And so, Daisuke-sama began to materialize himself before the young priest, Tatsuki. He chose to speak through him exclusively, causing much jealousy amongst the senior priests of the shrine. Why him, why does Daisuke-sama shun us now, what’s so special about him?”

“I mean, look at him.” Dai interjected, grinning as Tatsuki’s cheeks started to burn. “Can you blame me?”  

“Stop. And don’t be insensitive.” Tatsuki muttered back, kicking him soundly in the shin underneath the table. He tugged his scarf up over his mouth to hide his small, pleased smile, but not so quickly that Dai didn’t catch it.

“I cannot.” The itako said, spreading her palms and shrugging in apology. “But I believe you. He must be very beautiful.”  
  
Tatsuki blushed harder.

“It was a mere curiosity for Daisuke-sama at first. And surely an honor for Tatsuki. To be chosen by the kami of the shrine, especially so soon in his path. But over time, that curiosity developed into something more. Something much deeper.”

Dai stared at Tatsuki’s left hand, where it was still clutching the edge of the table. He sucked his lower lip into his teeth, worried it there. Bit back an urge.

“Daisuke-sama decided he did not want to return to an existence without Tatsuki. But he could not leave the shrine, and while he had abilities, none of those abilities could make Tatsuki immortal. None of them could promise Tatsuki would take the same path in his next life. So they made a plan.”  
  
Dai gave in, reaching out to pull Tatsuki’s hand off the table edge, to wrap it inside his own. Tatsuki flinched, startled, but didn’t pull away.

“Daisuke-sama went to the kami realm, to visit his friend Benzaiten-sama. Benzaiten-sama has many duties, watching over everything that flows - it is not only music and rivers that flow, but also time, and fate. Daisuke-sama knew what he would find, in her home, if he were to trick her, ply her with music, and laughter, and wine, until she fell asleep, contented and full-bellied. He knew where she kept her loom, where she hung her red strings of fate. And so he stole one, stole one and returned to Tatsuki in the human realm, so they could bind themselves together.”  
  
“Make our own fate.” Tatsuki said softly, fingers twitching in Dai’s grip, “We’ve seen that part in our dreams.”

The itako gave them a sad, consolatory smile. “Then you know the fates didn’t take kindly to the intervention. But what they couldn’t foresee was your success. They couldn’t see you at all. Not until you were reborn, and even then, not until you’d found each other again. Then, their hunt began.”

Tatsuki’s fingers twisted, nails scraping against Dai’s palm. “Then...is it true? We only die if we’re together?”

“Yes and no. The thread can become stretched, and tangled, but it can never break. Not by human means. And you _are_ human...humans have many ways to die.” She paused, reaching her hand out to trace the edges of the black catalpa bow on the table. “Benzaiten-sama was furious when she discovered what you had done. She tasked the shinigami with finding you, so she could follow, and cut the thread herself, sever the connection, restore the order of the fates. But your thread is not easy for them to find, unless it is shining at its brightest. And Benzaiten-sama has many, many duties, and she has never been fast enough, to reach you before the shinigami have carried out _their_ duty, a much simpler one.”

“Have we ever lived to old age?” Tatsuki’s voice sounded hollow. Dai squeezed his hand.

“Twice.” The itako replied, smile still apologetic, forlorn on their behalf. “Once in the Muromachi era, and once in the Tokugawa. The first time, you remained near each other, each one of you eventually committed to another. You broke these commitments at various times throughout the years to come together, in moments of indiscretion. But never long enough for your thread to attract their attention. The second...you parted. Completely. You did not come back together. You raised families, lived individual lives. But your last thoughts, they were still of each other.”

Tatsuki made a strange, choked sound in the back of his throat, pulling his hand free from Dai’s. Dai stared blankly down at his now empty hand before looking up to Tatsuki’s face, to Tatsuki rubbing his eyes, his temples, the sides of his face.

“You have continued to reincarnate, and to elude Benzaiten-sama, for one thousand years now. Now, you must face her before your time runs out again, if you wish to have any say in what happens next. You will have a choice to make. You will need to draw her attention first. Then, you must either allow her to sever the thread binding you - or, if you wish, you may argue for your right to keep it. That is not something I can advise you on. You must make that decision yourselves.”

“How do we find her?” Dai asked, trying to swallow the weird, dry feeling creeping up his own throat.

The itako smiled again, looking back and forth between them with unseeing eyes. It gave Dai a tiny chill. Made him wish he still had the press of Tatsuki’s warm fingers still wrapped safely in his palm.

“You must travel to Aki-jingū. Try to avoid the shinigami on your way, they’ve been hovering, haven’t they? The shrine is abandoned, now. There was no reason for the priests or worshippers to stay with the kami gone. But your presence there, together, should be enough to summon them, and her. It should be strong enough that even she will notice it in time.”

The itako placed her ghoulish rosary of beads and bone back onto the table, unwrapping it with care from where she’d threaded it between her fingers.

“Go to the waterfall. Through the torii, by the lake. That is all the help I can give you.” She bowed slightly in her seat to both of them, one at a time, folding her hands on the table again and staring straight ahead between them with her unfocused gaze. “And good luck.”

They both bowed in turn, from their seats and as they stood, even though she couldn’t see them, mumbling their thanks repeatedly. They stumbled out of the dark tent, back into the harsh landscape of jagged greys and harsh blacks, back into the piercing light of the sun, squinting against it. Dai’s head was still spinning, and there was a manic laughter bubbling up in his chest, one he wasn’t sure he could hold back much longer, just a strong urge to give in and really let himself feel the absurdity of it all. Let that take over and carry him for just a moment.

It escaped from Tatsuki first instead, when Dai spun on his feet to face the silent shinigami still standing guard outside the tent and give it a solemn, straight-faced salute as he walked backwards. It was a tiny giggle first, one Tatsuki muffled with his hand. But then Dai chuckled as he turned back around and another giggle escaped from behind Tatsuki’s hand. And another, and another, until there were tears leaking out from the corners of Tatsuki’s eyes, until he was clutching his sides and Dai’s laughs were deep and full-bodied and in chorus with his own.

They made it back to the temple, somehow, managing to get their delirious laughter somewhat under control, into a more stifled and respectable murmur as it faded out, and Tatsuki booked them a taxi back with hands that were still shaking, wiping at his eyes after he’d tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“You.” Tatsuki said finally, staring bemusedly at Dai as they waited, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Why did it have to be you?”

The soft way he said it, the look in his eyes as the did, that stopped it from hurting. That made Dai grin widely back instead. “Sorry.”  
  
And Tatsuki’s faint smile turned into a full smirk as he shoved gently at Dai’s shoulder, as he looked away, still smirking and said quietly, under his breath, “No you’re not.”

* * *

The ride back was quiet, uneventful, more for the sake of privacy and sparing the driver from being unwillingly thrust into their increasingly weird situation without his consent. The mood was a little more somber, a little heavier, by the time they were entering their room. Tatsuki disappeared into the bathroom first, while Dai went on a quest for more pillows, taking a gamble and throwing the extras from the closet as well as the ones from the second bed all onto one. Tatsuki raised his eyebrows at the sight when he re-emerged, now dressed for bed in a plain black t-shirt and boxers again, but didn’t protest either as Dai shuffled past him to the bathroom with his own sleepwear bundled up in his arms.

When he came back into the room, Tatsuki was sitting with his back propped up against the headboard and the now neatly arranged line of pillows, scrolling through his phone, likely researching the best way to reach Aki-jingū tomorrow.

“A thousand years, huh?” Dai broke the silence with an attempt to lighten the mood as he approached the bed. “Does that makes this our millennial anniversary? We should celebrate.”  
  
“You’re so dumb.” Tatsuki muttered, but the light from the screen of his phone illuminated the tiny smile on his face. He clicked the button at the side, placing it aside on the small table wedged between the two beds, giving Dai his full attention, seemingly grateful for the lighter conversation. So Dai kept going.

“I wonder what kind of god I was,” He mused as he sat down on the end of the bed, wiggling his eyebrows at Tatsuki, “God of love? God of sex?”

Tatsuki groaned and rolled his eyes, chucking a pillow directly at Dai's head. “God of fools. God of misfortune. God of bad haircuts.” He kicked playfully at Dai's closest thigh for emphasis with each suggestion.

Dai let the pillow bounce off him harmlessly and twisted to the side to grab both of Tatsuki's kicking ankles, pinning them down against the mattress. Something in the air shifted. Tatsuki's breath hitched, just a little, just loud enough for Dai to notice. Dai’s eyes darkened, as Tatsuki's cheeks heated, tinged pink. He squeezed Tatsuki's ankles, a little harder, just for a moment. Watched the way it made Tatsuki bite gently into his lower lip, bite something back.

“You know…” Dai felt his lips curling up into a smirk as he moved his hands a little higher, shifted over onto his knees, planting one leg between Tatsuki’s, “You should really start addressing me properly.”

Tatsuki stiffened, muscles twitching underneath Dai’s fingertips, but made no move to stop him as his hands slid up further, further, as he started to crawl, slowly, closer, up Tatsuki's body.

“No. Absolutely not. Never.” Tatsuki’s tongue flicked out, nervously, to wet his lips, but his gaze stayed firmly locked with Dai’s, defiant, bold. Daring him closer. “You wish. Not in a million years. Not in a million lifetimes.”

Dai's hands reached Tatsuki's thighs, the familiar curves of muscle there, a map Dai had memorized night after night, no matter how many years fell in between. This close, he could hear the way Tatsuki's breaths were getting just a little bit faster, could see the way his pupils were growing wide. He brushed his hands up and out, a ghost of a touch over Tatsuki's hips before planting his hands firmly on either side of them against the mattress. He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, gently, barely. So close, now, he could feel Tatsuki's breath tickle his face, his lips.

Time seemed to slow to a stop. The air felt thick, heavy. Tatsuki's eyes scanned his face rapidly, every quivering breath issuing another challenge. _Come on._

“Maybe I should make you.” Dai murmured, rolling his hips forward, just a little, just enough, to make his intentions clear, the firm nudge of his growing arousal brushing against the hard muscle of Tatsuki's inner thigh. Just enough to make Tatsuki gasp and his eyelashes flutter, make him twitch forward, just a little, so that their lips barely touched for one aching instant.

And there it was, the fire in Tatsuki's eyes, the passion he'd burned under for a thousand years and would gladly endure for a thousand more.

“You can try.” Tatsuki whispered, lifting his chin stubbornly, and Dai was gone, wasting no time in catching Tatsuki’s lips with his own, enjoying every single note of the tiny groan Tatsuki made in response.

Their battle for dominance began immediately, Tatsuki’s hands grabbing for his shoulders and rolling him onto his back, mouth still hungrily pressed to Dai’s, chasing kiss after kiss after kiss. Everything sent Dai’s head spinning, straight to the moon, to the stars. The feel of Tatsuki’s lips, soft, familiar. The intoxicating taste of him. The weight of Tatsuki’s body on top of his own, every dance of his fingertips against his skin. Dai let out a whimper of protest when Tatsuki broke away, but was silenced by one slender finger against his lips as Tatsuki sat back, legs on either side of Dai, straddling his waist. He watched, awestruck, as Tatsuki grabbed the hem of his own t-shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside.

His skin was flushed, gaze heady. His body was still chiseled, still athletic - time on the ice swapped for time at the barre hadn't done much to diminish a lifetime of training, of effort. It had been a little over a year, since they’d last done this, but Tatsuki still managed to take Dai’s breath away like it was the first time all over again. Dai pushed himself up, impatient and desperate to touch, but Tatsuki smirked and shoved him back down, diving after him to paint a trail of kisses down his jaw, from the soft spot just underneath his ear back to his waiting lips, his eager mouth.

Dai felt like he was burning from the inside out, feverish and consumed. He traced this thumbs up along Tatsuki’s collarbones before grabbing his shoulders and roughly flipping him over, tumbling over with him, legs scrambling to bracket Tatsuki’s. He lifted one hand to trace the curve of Tatsuki’s neck, up to grasp his chin lightly and tilt it with his fingertips, to better slot their mouths together as he increased the pressure of each kiss, harder, and harder, the closer he got to losing control.

He rolled his hips down again, grinding them with a very direct purpose against Tatsuki’s, firm and deliberately slow. Tatsuki gasped against his mouth, his name coasting out on a breathy moan from Tatsuki’s lips, every syllable sweet and dripping like honey, “ _Daisuke_ …”

Dai bit into the plump flesh of Tatsuki’s lower lip gently, tugging it back with him as far as he dared as he broke the kiss. Tatsuki was an absolute vision to behold like this, staring up at Dai with a bleary confusion through half-lidded eyes, lips wet and swollen and slightly parted, cheeks pink and hair mussed around him on the pillow. It made Dai’s heart clench in his chest, made his knees and any remaining scrap of resolve feel weak.

Still, Dai cocked one eyebrow, eyes glinting with a spark of mischief as he chided, “Daisuke- _sama_.”

“Shut up.” Tatsuki muttered, but he was smiling, and he grabbed Dai’s face with both hands to pull him back down into a longer, deeper kiss, one that broke the very last bit of restraint Dai still had.

Dai stroked Tatsuki’s face, then broke away, and down, down to mouth wetly at his jaw, at his neck, pausing at the crook to nip and suck at the sensitive skin there, to leave a mark, enjoying every second of the strangled cry it drew out of Tatsuki. He started to make his way down Tatsuki’s chest, down his abdomen, visiting every sensitive spot he’d committed to memory along the way, lavishing each one with care, and tongue, and teeth.

“Hey, Macchi…” Dai murmured between kisses to the carved out “v” of muscle leading to his destination. “How many times do you think we’ve done this?”

“I don’t know,” Tatsuki said dryly, throwing one arm across his eyes as Dai hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of his boxers, started to pull them down and out of his way, “Hundreds. Thousands. Stuck in this loop. You became a human just to torture me, forever. Never let me go. Never let me be free of you.”

“Oh?” Dai paused, trailing his hands back up to grip Tatsuki’s hips tantalizingly slow, well aware that his every puff of breath was responsible for Tatsuki’s visibly growing agitation, sending tiny, thready tremors up the length of his body, “Is that what you really want? To be free of me?”

Tatsuki let out a frustrated groan and lifted one leg up to bring it squarely down on Dai’s shoulder before draping it over his back. “Not right _now_.”

Dai laughed and licked one quick, teasing strip up the underside before taking all of him into his mouth. Tatsuki cried out, back arching off the bed as his hands moved down to twist in Dai’s hair, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp, a subtle reminder of who was really in control. And Dai gave it over easily, hollowing his cheeks and letting Tatsuki guide him, letting him set the pace. He had missed this, everything about this, everything about _him_ , and him like this: commanding, unbidden, unfolded. Raw. Seeing him like this. Having him like this. Being allowed to.

And it just felt _right_ , so right, the salt on his tongue and the stretch in his jaw. Even the soreness starting to throb in the hinges. Even the rough, scratchy feeling in the back of his throat; he wanted it, he welcomed it.

It wasn’t very long before Tatsuki released his grip on Dai’s hair, knocked his knee lightly but firmly against the side of Dai’s head. A solid cue to stop. So Dai did, pulling back and looking at Tatsuki curiously.

“I _know_ you brought some, so go get it.” Tatsuki ordered, one side of his mouth tugged up into a knowing smirk. He laughed as Dai immediately scrambled off the edge of the bed, nearly falling off it in his enthusiasm to fetch what he knew Tatsuki was asking for. He laughed again when Dai nearly tripped over his own feet in his eagerness to tear his own clothes off, and again when he leapt back onto the bed, practically pouncing onto Tatsuki.

Tatsuki jerked, shivered, as the cool liquid hit his skin. He kept his eyes firmly on Dai, watching attentively and with an unsubtle anticipation as Dai sat back on his knees and slicked his fingers up. Dai noticed and took his time, drawing it out - one, two. And when he got to three, the stilted and shuddery intake of breath from Tatsuki, paired with the dark and needy look in his eyes, made him feel like he was losing his mind.

Dai set the bottle aside nearby and leaned forward over Tatsuki, propping himself up on one arm so he could stay poised above him, so he could watch him come apart as he worked him open; gently, considerately, and torturously slow. Twitching and moaning softly under the attention of one finger. Squirming, color rising in his cheeks and breaths coming faster under two. And, finally, writhing, panting, under three, hands reaching up to clutch, dig into Dai's biceps.

“You’re breathtaking.” Dai mumbled, lowering himself down, so he could leave another line of kisses along Tatsuki’s collarbone, up to and along his neck. “Maybe I became human so I could be the one to worship you.”

“Stop talking, you’re ruining it.” Tatsuki groaned, lifting a hand to shove Dai’s head away playfully.

Dai nipped at Tatsuki’s earlobe, twisted and curled his fingers inside, deeper, brushing against the spot he knew would make Tatsuki’s hips buck up and his eyes roll back. A reprimand for his insolence. Tatsuki’s hand darted up to grab his face, to guide him back over so his face was above Tatsuki’s.  

And then Tatsuki was mouthing at his chin, at the corner of his lips, hot and wet and messy, gasping against his mouth, “Dai, I’m ready, _please_.”

Dai pushed himself up and back onto his heels, hand groping blindly in the covers for the small bottle, unwilling to tear his eyes away from Tatsuki. He didn’t want to miss a single moment. He wanted to record every second, lock it safely in his memory, just in case. Just in case this was the last time. Every heave of Tatsuki’s chest, every twitch of his fingertips against the sheets. The way he was watching Dai now, eyes heavy with an open longing, an open want, the way he smirked and wet his lips as Dai fumbled the bottle in his hands, dropping it twice before he was able to get a firm hold on it with trembling fingers, before he could get it open and hastily palm himself.

The only sound in the room aside from their breathing was the low, steady hum of the aircon. The air itself felt thick again, charged, as Dai leaned over Tatsuki, positioned himself. His eyes stayed locked on Tatsuki’s as he lined himself up, as he began to press in. He savored the small, achy moan that Tatsuki made at the feel, savored the unhinged and feral look in his eyes.

Every single fibre of his being, every single nerve in his body wanted nothing more than to thrust forward recklessly, to sink into and become one with Tatsuki again. But he couldn't, not yet, not without making sure. So he paused, summoning every tiny scrap of willpower and strength he had left in order to do so.

“Still think this is a bad idea?” He murmured, shifting his free arm closer to Tatsuki’s face, so he could brush one stray strand of hair back from his forehead.

There was a beat of silence. Tatsuki stared up at him with a stunned bemusement, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. But he smiled and let out a sound that could only be described as a giggle.

“This is a terrible idea,” Tatsuki shot back as he wrapped his legs up and around Dai's ass, impatient, urging him closer, deeper, “But right now, I don’t care. So _come on_.”

And that was good enough an answer for Dai, more than enough reason to push in further, until he didn’t need to hold himself steady anymore, so he could grab Tatsuki’s hands instead, pinning them by his head and lacing their fingers together. This way, he could watch every subtle change in Tatsuki’s face, could feel it when Tatsuki squeezed his hands, could hear every hitch of his breath, so he knew exactly when to still, when to wait and let him adjust, and when to start moving again, until he was all the way in.

It was so overwhelming, so all encompassing, the feeling of Tatsuki underneath him, the feeling of Tatsuki around him, of being joined together like this again, that Dai collapsed on top of him, their bodies pressed together as he groaned, long and low, into the pillow, already trembling. Tatsuki laughed, a soft and gentle sound, and pulled his hands free, to wrap them loosely up and around Dai’s neck instead, one carding - once, twice - through his hair.

“Dai.” An amused, but firm, voice by his ear, “Move.”

“Sorry,” Dai mumbled, pushing himself back up onto his hands, throwing Tatsuki a sheepish grin. “You feel really good.”

“You too.” Tatsuki breathed out on the edge of another soft laugh, smile wide on his face.

Something in his chest bloomed, and ached, spilling over.

“Macchi, I-”

A thousand different words waiting to be said leapt to his tongue. _I’m sorry. I missed you. I love you. I want you back. I’m glad it’s you._

“Shhh.” One of Tatsuki’s hands flitted down to press a finger against his lips, the other curving around his neck, stroking his face before drifting to perch delicately on his shoulder. “Just move.”

Tatsuki kept his finger there for a while as Dai obeyed, until they were rocking together and he couldn’t anymore, dropping it instead to paw at Dai’s chest, to clutch at his side. Dai took his time at first, strokes nice and slow, and languid, relishing the feel. Until Tatsuki was arching off the bed, craning his neck up to Dai’s ear to whisper, to command, “ _More_.”

And Dai knew exactly what that meant, exactly what he wanted. They’d come together and come apart enough times over the years. Enough to learn, enough to remember, even if they grew with others in the time in-between. Things never changed too much. Sometimes, there was something new, new to show, new to learn. It always felt like catching up more than missing out. Like coming back home.

So he snapped his hips forward a little faster, a little harder. Alternating, here and there, deeper, and slower, deliberate, shifting his hips in the way he knew would make Tatsuki cry out brokenly, make his head roll back and his eyes squeeze shut.

And he knew, knew what Tatsuki wanted when his arms snaked up around Dai’s back, pulling him down, closer. He knew what he wanted the second he felt Tatsuki’s teeth at the hollow of his neck, at the curve of his shoulder. And he obeyed, thrusts becoming erratic as he let himself become unwound, stopped holding anything back, stopped thinking. Let himself be consumed, completely, wrapped up in the moment, wrapped up in Tatsuki.  

He felt Tatsuki’s hands start to claw desperately at his back, heard him whimper in between ragged, harried breaths. But he waited to reach down, to touch, like he knew he should, until Tatsuki’s breath was hot against his cheek, until he was begging, “Dai, _please_.”

It didn't take much for Tatsuki to reach his peak then, shaking, fingers flexing and digging deeper into Dai's back. Tatsuki’s legs were still wrapped around him, in a loose clutch over his lower back but they were seizing now, squeezing him closer, tighter as Tatsuki crested the wave rocking through his body, through him, Dai’s name falling again from his lips, but stretching into a gasping cry.

Dai wasn’t far behind, feeling Tatsuki clenching around him, bucking against him in their clutch, pushing him quickly closer, closer to the edge.

He tried, really tried, to growl out a warning, voice husky and strained, “Macchi, I’m gonna-”

But Tatsuki was quick as lightning, lips pressed close to his ear and _purring_ , "It's okay, I want it."

And that did it, punching a sound out from his chest that he’d have been embarrassed about if this were anyone else, sending him hurtling over the edge instead of gently stumbling across it. His hips stuttered, once, twice, then stilled, deep inside, as he collapsed forward onto Tatsuki again, panting and boneless. Tatsuki’s hands relaxed, stroking down his back, making him shiver. He wished he could stay like this forever- pliant, breathless, Tatsuki’s fingers tracing tiny circles on his hip bones. Listening to their breaths slowing, evening out. Chests heaving, pressed together, sticky with sweat, feeling Tatsuki’s heartbeat, still wild and hammering against his ribs.

But he couldn’t. So he disengaged, gently and not without a tiny sigh, rolling over onto his back but leaving one leg hooked over Tatsuki’s. Tatsuki turned onto his side, tucking his hands underneath the pillow and smiling like the cat who got the canary. Smug. Powerful. Like he didn’t need any red string to keep Dai wrapped around his little finger and they both knew it. The smile didn’t fade as he leaned over to kiss Dai again, Dai could feel the way Tatsuki’s lips stayed curved as they pressed against his own, couldn’t help it when his did the same.

“Tatsuki, I-” Dai started when he pulled away, but Tatsuki silenced him again with a firm shake of his head.

“Don’t talk yet, please. You’re full of oxytocin and your chances of saying something stupid are drastically heightened.”

Dai opened his mouth to protest but Tatsuki raised his eyebrows and he snapped it closed again.

The room was small, and the bathroom was even smaller, with a Western style shower. But it could fit two, and Dai wasn’t planning on raising any objections when Tatsuki took his hand and pulled him off the bed, towards the bathroom. This was a different kind of déjà vu. Memories from _this_ life flashed before him, sent a sharp pain through his chest.

The way Tatsuki glanced back at him made him think of Russia, and stolen kisses in tucked away alleys. Snow-dusted eyelashes and nervous, searching hands in the dark. It was the same look, the same way, sly and over the shoulder, but Tatsuki hasn’t worn his hair like that in a while. Tatsuki is five years older now and they aren’t at the Olympics anymore and this isn’t the first time they’ve done this.

Of Rinspo, exactly one February later, and the way Tatsuki's face lit up when he'd seen him skating toward him, a surprise just for him. And the way his eyes had shimmered, later, wet and full of tears, as they'd lain together, locked in a long goodbye. And that same smile, that smile from Sochi, but sadder, as he'd led him towards the shower, one more time.

Of the quickly emptying locker room backstage at the Hiroshima Sun Plaza, the knowing eye roll from Takahiko and the disbelieving head tilt from Nobu when they promised they’d catch up with the gang at the restaurant, go on ahead, don’t wait for us. That knowing smile again, once everyone had gone, as Tatsuki pushed the door to the showers open, disappearing into the rising steam. The sigh he made, pressed up against the tiled wall, water still beating down on them. The sigh Nobu made when he cornered Dai later, asked him just what he thought he was doing.

And here, now, a little over a year later, but with a thousand more years of feelings in between. Here, now, they were a little crowded in the shower not really built for two. It didn’t make much sense, they had to take turns to stand under the water, but they did it anyway.

“Can I talk yet?” Dai asked softly, as Tatsuki stepped backwards to wash the conditioner out of his hair.

Tatsuki didn’t answer him right away, rinsing the rest of the suds from his hair first, eyes still closed and head tilted back. He waited until they were chest-to-chest again, trading places. “That depends on what you want to say.”

Dai didn’t have a chance to respond before Tatsuki was stepping out of the shower, reaching for a towel, searching for the hair dryer. Dai pushed his breath out through his nose and stepped under the water, lingering, until the sound of the hair dryer stopped, until Tatsuki was closing the door gently behind him.

He thought about his reply. Played it back and over and over again in his mind, until he had it right. Waited, until they were both dressed again - Tatsuki sitting on the edge of the bed they’d decided on, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Dai, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, one hand still toweling his hair dry.

“Do you not want me to say it, or do you just not want to hear it?”  
  
Tatsuki laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, and looked at Dai with wide eyes and raised brows. “Does the distinction matter?”  
  
“Yeah.” Dai said quietly, tossing his towel into the nearby chair, crossing over to the bed, to stand in front of Tatsuki. “It does.”  
  
Tatsuki looked up at Dai, his smile was small, apologetic. “Things are complicated enough right now.” He hesitated for a moment, lifting his hands and letting them hover there in the air before reaching for Dai’s, pulling him closer and pressing the side of his face against Dai’s abdomen, partially muffling his voice as he added, “Just come to bed?”

It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen Tatsuki like this before - open, vulnerable, a little afraid. He had, and memories of the trembling young man in Sochi came back again. His tiny, breathy laughs that betrayed his nervousness, experiencing everything for the first time. Opening himself up, giving himself over, trusting, unfolding like a beautiful flower before Dai’s eyes, revealing a self only few, if any had ever gotten close enough to see. A rare event, like the night-blooming cereus, something special, something to be appreciated carefully, and cherished for what it was. It wasn’t that it was a secret side, or even hidden. It was something you had to earn. To prove yourself worthy of. You had to be deserving. Safe. Trusted.

But this time was different. This time, they were heading into the true unknown, into uncharted waters they’d never foreseen navigating, a sea of memories and feelings, a thousand years’ worth. He thought about it, as Tatsuki pressed one kiss against his stomach, through the fabric of his t-shirt, moved his hands up to hold his elbows, pulled him down onto the bed. Thought about it as he laid down on his back, as Tatsuki wrapped around him, silent, scared, seeking comfort but shying from the weight of it.

This could be the end. The _real_ end. Of this life and any after.

Tatsuki lay nestled in the crook of his arm, head tucked into his chest, arm stretched across it. He squeezed Tatsuki closer, held him just a little bit tighter. Bent his head to press a kiss to the top of his head again, and this time, he didn’t flinch away, just hummed, contentedly, into Dai’s chest. Moved one leg to hook over Dai’s, entwining further.

It was a little strange, that this was safe now, but words were not.

But he’d take it. He’d take it, for now, and try to impress the words he couldn’t say through his fingertips, with every touch. Through his lips, with every smile he gave, every kiss he got. They were running out of time, the hourglass wasn’t just running low, it was breaking, streaming sand and glass through their fingers if they tried to catch it, make it wait, make it slow down. But he’d try, he’d try to wait, for Tatsuki to want to hear it. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe when they got there, passed through the torii gate, stood by the waterfall.

Or maybe, he thought, listening to Tatsuki’s breaths evening out, feeling his fingers twitch and curl in the fabric of his shirt as he drifted off to sleep, maybe it wasn’t that Tatsuki didn’t want to hear it. Maybe the real distinction was that he didn’t _need_ to.

Maybe that made all the difference.

Maybe that thought was what made Dai fall asleep with a smile on his face, in spite of what lay ahead.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful fanart for Chapter 4 courtesy of [Superlinh2701](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superlinh2701/) \- thank you so so so much <3 
> 
> Don't talk to me about Heian era Japan ever again. Weeps. Please leave some feedback, I am desperate and insecure as always. Next chapter will be a little longer before posting because I have a lot more samurai research to do than I want to think about. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who helped cheerlead me and push me through this hell chapter. Thank you to [halfjoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfjoker) and [marmee_ginny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmee_ginny) for betaing my needy self. <3


	5. Steel & Sulfur

_Where does your body go when I leave you alone?_  
_Would your heart know if I met you in a brand new set of bones?_  
  
_I think we’ve loved a thousand lives_  
_I try to find you every time_  
_Searching for the same bright eyes  
_ _That locked me in, in my first life_

 _I think we've lived a thousand lives_  
_(I'm just somebody that you used to love)_  
_I try to find you every time_  
_(I'm just somebody that you used to know)_  
_I try to find you every time_  
_(I’m just somebody that you used to love, used to love, used to love, used to love)_  
_I try to find you every time_  
-PVRIS, Same Soul

“By the time I’ve finished with you,  
you won’t know whether you’ve been kissed or cut,  
whether you were loved or butchered.  
and either way you probably won’t care,  
just grateful you came close enough to touch.”  
-Warsan Shire

##  **SEPARATE**

#### V. STEEL & SULFUR

_“Hey - Machibun, right? Come here a second.”_

_Tatsuki paused in his tracks and glanced in the direction of the voice. His eyes found a handsomely carved face - brown eyes sparkling with mischief, high-cut cheeks flushed red with drink, a crooked and enticing smile, hair bundled up in a loose and messy topknot from which several wispy strands had escaped already. Takanobu, from his unit under Nobunaga, slouched lazily against the trunk of a nearby tree, with his kabuto tucked between his knees and his katana and wakizashi laid carefully beside him. He extended one arm towards Tatsuki, shaking a small earthen flask in his hand. An offering._

_He glanced back towards his destination - towards the barracks, the soft glow of torchlight and the voices of the rest of their company. Takanobu shook the flask again. The sound of the sake inside splashing against the confines of the container drew Tatsuki’s gaze back to him. Tatsuki felt a smile tugging up one corner of his lips in spite of himself. He stepped off the dirt path and towards the lounging figure, stopping to place his own kabuto and weapons down neatly next to the other man’s before taking the flask from his extended hand._

_“Sure. Why not.” Tatsuki acquiesced, taking a quick, aggressive swig of the fiery liquid. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking curiously down at Takanobu, who was now grinning and patting the ground beside him, an invitation._

_As he sat down, time shifted. Changed. Now, months later, and under a different moon and bed of stars, looking out over a small pond instead of a field, they sat again side by side, leaning shoulder to shoulder against a different sturdy tree. There was no armor, just a pile of sandals next to weapons laid carefully aside. This night, both men wore only simple kimono. It was later, darker, and the stars seemed brighter. The sake still burned, but so did something else between them._

_“The moon is beautiful tonight.” Daisuke - formerly only known to him as Takanobu - spoke softly, looking at him, not the moon, with reverence._

_Tatsuki’s heart thumped loudly in his chest, in his ears, feeling suddenly like it would burst right through the cage of his ribs. “What?” He whispered back, turning slowly to face Daisuke completely. “Say that again, please.”_

_“The moon…” Daisuke murmured, his fingers unusually twitchy, nervous, as they moved up to stroke Tatsuki’s cheek, tuck his hair behind his ear. Tatsuki felt his cheeks burning, wondering if Daisuke could feel that heat in his fingertips. Daisuke licked his lips, eyes scanning Tatsuki’s face almost frantically. “The moon is beautiful tonight.”_

_Tatsuki’s breath caught in his throat. There was no mistaking what Daisuke meant, not with his thumb tracing Tatsuki’s bottom lip, not with his hand cupping Tatsuki’s face, sliding back to cradle his head, to pull him closer, closer._

_“Then…” Tatsuki mumbled, so close now that his lips brushed Daisuke’s as he spoke, “I can die happy.”_

_The sound that Daisuke made as their lips pressed together shot right through Tatsuki's entire body like a strike of lightning. The startled gasp and subsequent moan he made- as Tatsuki grabbed hold of his shoulders, shoved him back hard against the trunk of the tree, moved his hands to twist them in Daisuke’s hair and pull as he swung his leg over Daisuke’s to straddle his lap- those sounds ran through Tatsuki's blood, burned into his mind. And the sounds, sweet and filthy, Daisuke made from underneath him, kimono askew and back rubbing raw against the dirt, those he etched deep into his memory alongside the smell of the sake seeping into the earth beside them, spilled and long forgotten._

_And as his hands fisted in Daisuke’s robes, yanking him up off the ground and into another messy, fevered kiss, the scene shifted again. Robes to armor, fists to palms, shoving Daisuke away, a frustrated sob tearing itself from his throat._

_“You can’t fight in your condition! Don’t be stupid!”_

_Daisuke caught himself on the edge of the table as he stumbled backwards, wounded leg caving, betraying. He gritted his teeth. “Nobu needs me-”_

_“I need you.” Tatsuki insisted. Begged. It was humiliating. “I need you alive. You’re no good to me dead.”_

_“I have to protect you as well.” Daisuke glared at him, icy, defiant._

_A scornful, bitter laugh bubbled up from Tatsuki's throat before he could claw it back. “What, like that?" He gestured at Daisuke's wounded leg, at the bandages still wrapped tight around it, already soaking through again with blood. "You can’t. Let me protect you. Stay here. We’re surrounded.”_

_Daisuke gritted his teeth, placing his hands on the hilt of his katana. “Then we need every man.”_

_Despair crept into the edges of Tatsuki's anger. He stepped closer, reaching up instinctively for Daisuke's face, but the look in his eyes gave Tatsuki pause. His hand hovered there in the air between them for a moment, Daisuke's stare boring into him. Tatsuki bit down on his lip, bit down on his pride, and stroked Daisuke's cheek before pressing his palm against it firmly. He held Daisuke's gaze, unflinching, rising to the challenge issued by the look in Daisuke's eyes alone._

_What he was about to do, about to suggest, was crazy. The implication was shameful, and selfish, and would be shocking. But he had to bare himself here and now, before the flames outside rose any higher, before another drop of Daisuke's blood fell from the frayed edges of his bandages and smacked against the tatami._

_“You don’t need to die for him.” Tatsuki's voice softened, but he didn't let it tremble, swallowing the fear scratching desperately at the back of his throat. “Not when you can live for me.”_

_Daisuke's eyes narrowed, jaw setting firm, face immovable as his will. As his pride._

_“Then what kind of bushi am I?” He hissed out between his teeth, low and cold. ”Move.”_

_He shoved past Tatsuki, knocking him out of the way, and walked through the door out into the burning temple without looking back._

* * *

Waking up was slow. Gentle, despite the lingering smell of burning wood and fresh blood, despite the tight feeling in his throat- as if he were still fighting, choking on ash, on the acrid taste in the air. Tatsuki’s eyes blinked open slowly as he squinted at the unfamiliar landscape. Black, rising and falling, too close to come into focus. Further away, a bed. A nightstand. His phone. Right. Ominato. A hotel in Ominato. He blinked. _Daisuke._

This was definitely Dai’s chest he was lying on. Memories of the night before flooded his waking mind now, explaining some of the soreness in his limbs, and he let out a tiny groan. Dai shifted slightly underneath him, and now there was a hand circling his waist, resting tentatively on his hip. Dai’s hand. The same Dai whose hands and lips and throaty little moans had him completely overwhelmed a few hours ago. He grimaced, turning his face and pressing it into Dai’s chest. The same Dai who had broken his heart in Honnō-ji, choosing death over dishonor, choosing death over _him_ , without a second thought. Choosing death for both of them.

“You’re such an asshole.” Tatsuki mumbled into Dai’s chest, muffling his own lament.

But it was still clear enough for Dai to hear him, and he laughed, pulling Tatsuki closer and nuzzling the top of his head, placing an apologetic kiss there. Tatsuki grunted, but didn’t flinch away.

“I’m sorry,” Dai murmured softly into his hair, “Every lifetime over.”

“Mm,” Tatsuki closed his eyes, lips twitching into a smile as he turned his face to the side again. “Apology not accepted. But I’ll take that into consideration.”

“What if I gave you a thousand apologies?” Dai’s hand stroked lightly up and down his side, bringing a pleasant chill along with its warmth. “A thousand apologies for a thousand years.”  
  
“That would require you only fucking up once a year.” Tatsuki said dryly, and Dai flicked him in the ribs. “Ow.”

It felt strange, to fall into this so easily, so comfortably. To fall, again, for him. If he was honest with himself, though, there was no _again_ about it. He'd fallen all those years ago and never gotten back up again, not really. That was maybe the worst part. The part that stung, the part that tasted bitter.

Dai's hand moved up to stroke his hair, tuck it back behind his ear one careful strand at a time, and Tatsuki allowed him, allowed him to hear the small, contented sigh it drew. The strange, new reality was that they could die tomorrow - today, even, if they were particularly unlucky - so all things considered, there were worse things than letting Dai back in. He could allow himself this, right? A lover for the end of the world. A little indulgence.

 _You can_ , part of him whispered, _but you’re a fool for it_.

He shoved that voice to the back of his mind and tilted his chin up to look at Dai, breathing in. Worry about that later. If there was a later. Right now, Dai was warm, and smelled like worn cotton and cheap shampoo. And his arms felt like sanctuary. Safe, sturdy. Shelter from the storm. He could stay here, just for a little while. Just for right now.

“We should get going. It’s down at the other end of the island, right?” Dai suggested, voice slow and reluctant, like he were loathe to take his own advice.

“Yeah,” Tatsuki replied. Dai shivered as Tatsuki’s breath tickled his neck. “I booked us a ryokan near the shrine. For tonight. I don’t want to get there too soon. I hope that’s alright.”

Tatsuki pushed himself up, but only to prop himself on one elbow, so he could see Dai’s face without losing the touch of the hand draped comfortably around his hip.

Dai looked at him curiously, brow wrinkled in confusion, “Yeah, of course, but...why? You don’t want to just get there today? Get this over with?”

Tatsuki paused, a little pang of guilt twitching in his chest. Was that really the impression he’d been giving? Is that really what was coming across to Dai, even after last night? Like this was all a chore? Was he really that closed off? He frowned, pushing back the warning voice in his head, and opened up just a little bit further.

“I’m not in any hurry for this to end,” he said softly, lifting the hand that had been lying idly on Dai’s chest to stroke his fingers from the crest of Dai’s cheekbone down to the tip of his chin. “Any of this.”

Dai shivered under his touch, breath hitching in his throat. But he didn’t look away, eyes still locked with Tatsuki’s. His look of curiosity shifted into one of open wonder and awe. “You really mean that?”

“Unfortunately,” Tatsuki sighed, and the grin he’d been waiting for spread across Dai’s face. “This could be the end of a lot of things, you know? Our shared existence at the very least; our lives at the very most. We should take some time to reflect, to appreciate that, in a nicer place. To have a nicer night, since it could be our last night alive.”

“A nicer night? Is that a challenge?” Dai teased, winking and moving forward so quickly Tatsuki only had time to yelp before he found himself on his back with Dai’s hands on his wrists, pinning his arms on either side of his head. The hungry look Tatsuki knew very well was back in his eyes, and Tatsuki had to smother the fire now trying to rise in his own gut.

“It _wasn’t_ ,” Tatsuki said, raising an eyebrow as Dai moved a little closer, pressed his hips a little harder against Tatsuki’s, “And you’re ridiculous. Check-out is in about twenty minutes. Let me up, please.”

“Okay,” Dai murmured, the gravelly tone in his voice stoking the flames, “But can I kiss you? Would that be okay?”  
  
Tatsuki felt the color rising in his cheeks as Dai’s eyes searched his face, still hungry but patient. Testing the waters, figuring out where they stood. Was this okay? What would it mean, if he said yes now? What would it mean if he said no? What were they, right now? What had they ever been?

And it felt a little silly, in light of everything, for this one little thing to carry so much weight. But there was a difference between kissing in the heat of the moment, and kissing now, in the morning sun and the quiet, the night and its passionate indiscretions behind them now. This would make it different. This hadn’t happened since the snowy, cozy mornings in Sochi, sunrise often still hours away, exchanging smiles and kisses in the dark. This would mean something, something for after, if they survived tomorrow.

Tatsuki bit his lower lip, considering. _If_.

It really wouldn’t matter, then, if they didn’t. Small indulgences. A kiss could be a small indulgence. That’s all it had to be, nothing more.

“Okay,” Tatsuki said slowly, “But not like this, or we’ll miss our check-out. Off.”

Something flickered across Dai’s eyes as he smiled and released Tatsuki’s wrists, something brief and pained and hopeful, something that made Tatsuki’s chest feel tight as Dai flopped back over onto his back before sitting up and shuffling forward to sit on the edge of the bed. Something that made him feel strangely nervous as he pushed himself up scoot forward and meet him there.

And Dai was nervous, too. There was no sign of the charismatic smooth operator who’d appeared last night. Instead, there was a tremor in his fingers as he tilted Tatsuki’s chin up. There was an apprehension, a hesitation in his eyes as he closed the distance between them, as if Tatsuki might balk and bite. As if he might change his mind, stop Dai’s lips with one finger and a frown and an _actually_ , _nevermind_. Dai seemed almost ready for it, already steeling himself against the inevitable rejection, because this, this was _more_ than just sex, this made it different, and clearly Tatsuki wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking about the implications it could have.

But last night had been more than just sex too, really, hadn’t it?

So Tatsuki let his eyes close as Dai’s lips pressed against his own. Kissed him back and wondered idly what he should do with his hands.

He decided on placing them on Dai’s chest so he could push himself back and gently break the kiss after it became two, then three, slow and lingering, and then four with Dai making a contented little groan against his mouth that sent a dangerous thrill through Tatsuki's entire body.

It felt like a first kiss, even though it was nothing like the first kiss had been. The first kiss, in this life, had been impatient and rough, Dai’s hands fisting in his t-shirt and yanking him into the room in Sochi as soon as Tatsuki landed on his doorstep, tension finally hitting its peak and breaking wide open. A few months of build-up for Dai and countless more for Tatsuki, all cresting and spilling over the moment Dai crashed his lips onto Tatsuki’s, pretenses dropped, kicked away faster than Dai kicked the door closed behind him.

And he wouldn’t change that, not for the world, not the way Dai had looked at him then, eyes nearly glazed over like he was drunk on desire, like Tatsuki was something long-awaited, something to be eagerly worshipped and devoured. Not the embarrassed way Dai had laughed, going bashful and red-faced, scratching the back of his head when Tatsuki had to break away to remind Dai that his luggage was still out in the hallway and needed to be rescued before they got any further. Not the way Dai had smiled at him just before they resumed, dazed and satisfied, like he was getting just what he wanted and he couldn’t believe it was true.

Those memories were precious, and perfect, and he would never wish to change them. But this was nice, too. This felt like the sort of first kiss you’d expect to have, the kind found in movies and romance novels. A soft, tender start, untempered by passion. A fresh start, maybe. If they made it out alive.

But for now, this was just a kiss. That’s all it could be. A small indulgence. He gave himself a mental shake, went over it in his head like a mantra. Just a kiss.

Dai was staring at him curiously now, still leaning forward awkwardly, waiting patiently for him to come back to earth while seemingly holding out hope that Tatsuki would forsake check-out and they could start kissing again.

Tatsuki pulled his hands back from Dai’s chest and smiled, fondly. Some things stayed the same as always.

“Let’s go get our first train.”

* * *

_“How long have you been with Nobunaga?”_

_Takanobu puffed his chest out proudly, folding his arms behind his head. “Since the beginning. That’s why they call me Takanobu. I’m one of his most trusted men.”_

_“Really?” Tatsuki smirked. “Is that why you’re here walking with us instead of riding at his side then?”_

_Takanobu balked, brown eyes growing impossibly wide. He reached out to shove Tatsuki lightly, playfully. “Rude.”_

_“Liar,” Tatsuki teased back, dancing swiftly out of reach of Takanobu’s next attempted jab._

_Takanobu was ready to retort back when Nobunaga’s familiar call cut through the air, making them both turn their heads towards the sound._

_“Machibun~! Takanobu~!” Nobunaga was waving one hand excitedly as he approached on horseback. The wide grin stretched across his face was more befitting a happy child than a dominant and fearsome warlord. It was next to impossible not to grin back._

_Nobunaga slowed to trot beside them, still beaming down. “So you guys have met already, huh?! Good to see you getting along!”_

_“Should we not have?” Tatsuki queried, raising his brows at Nobunaga while Takanobu made an exaggerated sound of offense at his side._

_Nobunaga laughed, a bubbly and contagious sound, “No, I knew you would. It’s just nice when friends make friends.”_

_“So this guy isn’t lying about being with you from the beginning then?” Tatsuki asked and dodged another elbow from Takanobu._

_“Why do you like this annoying guy, Nobu?” Takanobu sighed, folding his arms back up behind his head, “Do you like suffering?”_

_“Maybe that’s just my type of person, annoying guys,” Nobu grinned mischievously down at both of them, throwing Takanobu a quick wink. “Maybe they annoy me into my success.”_

_Tatsuki laughed, loud and with his head falling back, leaving him unable to dodge the solid jab of Takanobu’s fingers into his side, but he found he didn’t mind, even when Takanobu dug into his ribs as best he could through the light armor. It was nice. Whatever it was. His cheeks were strangely hot._

_Nobunaga looked down at them with a smile like he knew a secret they didn’t._

_“Keep that energy up. You’ll need it for our next battle. As you were!” Nobunaga gave them a cheerful nod before he spurred his mount onward, heading for the ranks before them to catch up with some of the other bushi fighting under his name._

_“He’s something special, isn’t he?” Tatsuki mused as they watched him depart._

_“He is. He’s going to change everything,” Takanobu said, voice ripe with admiration. He sounded nearly dazed. Dreamlike._

_Tatsuki studied his face, moved by his visibly deep level of respect, of reverence, for their_ _daimyō. He wondered, idly, what it would be like to have anyone look at him like that. He wondered, less idly, and with a strange twinge in his gut, what it would be like to have Takanobu look at him like that._

* * *

Tatsuki blinked awake slowly, and realized, shortly, with some embarrassment, that for the second time today, his head was resting on Dai. This time, his shoulder.

They must have drifted off on the shinkansen. It was a long journey from Ominato to Aki-jingū, and after a couple of shorter transfers they were now on one of two longer shinkansen journeys towards the opposite end of the island. If he drew from recent experience, Dai would also be stirring awake now, and it was already too late to remove his head from Dai’s shoulder before he noticed.

“Should we tell him?” Tatsuki mumbled, nuzzling in instead of pulling away, just for a moment.

“Naaah,” Dai said airily, pressing his cheek briefly to the top of Tatsuki’s head, and they laughed together.

"I suppose he'd never shut up about it if we did," Tatsuki said as he sat back upright, hands flitting up to fuss with his hair and smooth it back into place.

"We'd never hear the end of it," Dai agreed with a grin, shuffling in his own seat, stretching his legs and circling his wrists.

Tatsuki hummed and looked past Dai, out the small bubbled window of the shinkansen, trying to gauge by scenery how far they were from the next stop. But one side of his face still felt hot, and his mind wandered back to the feel of Dai's head on _his_ shoulder on their last shinkansen journey to Ominato. He clucked his tongue once against the roof of his mouth.

"Do you ever think about parallels? Echoes?" He asked Dai, eyes drifting away from the window and back to Dai's face.

Dai's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Echoes?"

"Echoes. From one life to the next." Tatsuki affirmed, "Like…the beach. And the medical room."

Dai stared back at him blankly. "Please expand."

"The beach. With the…mending." Tatsuki said slowly, feeling a little more flustered the more he had to explain. "Have you had that dream?"

_Tatsuki buried his face in his crossed arms, folded loosely over Daisuke's lap. He flapped his tail lightly against the grey pebbles of the beach shore, embarrassed, a little annoyed._

_"You don't have to do this," he mumbled, shy, into Daisuke's lap. "Really, it's fine."_

_"I want to. I can fix it. Let me help." Daisuke said firmly, and leaned over towards the fans of Tatsuki’s tail._

_Tatsuki bit into his lip and shivered as Daisuke’s fingertips brushed along the veins of his tail. He couldn’t know how sensitive they were, and Tatsuki hadn’t told him and wasn’t going to, so he was especially glad he could hide his face now, so Daisuke couldn’t see the color rising in his cheeks. Or the way his jaw went slack when Daisuke took the edges of one fin between his fingers and rubbed it gently, searching for the little microtears he was seeking to mend with needle and thread._

_“Hold still,” Daisuke instructed, his voice low and soothing, “Let me know if I hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_Tatsuki nodded, too embarrassed by the possible sounds that might escape if he opened his mouth to reply. The prick of the needle stung a little as Daisuke set to work, but it was nothing against the powerful surge of arousal that coursed through him when Daisuke’s fingers ghosted over the thicker veins of his tail, tracing a path, searching for more tears. Tatsuki whimpered into Daisuke’s leg, cheeks hot, mortification growing._

Dai frowned, concentrating, as Tatsuki played the dream over again his own mind. It was noticeable, the way Dai’s eyes widened and his entire face lit up when he made the connection. Tatsuki had to bite back a fond smile.

“Yeah, yeah! I have!” Dai said excitedly, words tumbling out at a rapid-fire pace, “With the sewing kit, right? And your tail! And you were all wiggly and like, weirdly horny?”  
  
“Shut up!” Tatsuki hissed, startled and mildly embarrassed at being seen through, even retroactively, “I wasn’t!”

But the grin on Dai’s face and the way he winked and wiggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly at Tatsuki made a giggle escape his lips anyway, one hand flying up to briefly cover the growing smile on his face as the other swatted at Dai’s arm. “ _Stop_. What am I going to do with you? Concentrate, please. What about the medical one, do you know the one I mean? Do you see what I mean about echoes?”

“When we were shinsengumi, right?” Dai said softly, “Yeah, I remember.”

_“I don’t need stitches, this is stupid.” The surly look on the face of the defiant man seated before him looked more like a pout than a threat. His long black hair was pulled up into a high ponytail,and he was still wearing his hachimaki. One sleeve of his distinctive teal haori was rolled up sloppily over his shoulder, his free hand holding it in place to keep it away from the bloody gash running down his upper arm, from shoulder to elbow. Tatsuki wondered why he hadn’t just taken off his haori before he’d done whatever he’d done to injure himself like this. Maybe he was stupid._

_“I’m the doctor here,” Tatsuki said slowly, patiently, reaching out to take the man’s arm in both his hands to inspect it more closely. “And you need stitches. That cut is too deep.”_

_His patient snorted and looked away, shuffling uncomfortably as Tatsuki let go of his arm to grab his tools. Tatsuki felt a bit of pity. Maybe he wasn’t stupid. Maybe he was just afraid it would hurt. Maybe he was both. Either way…_

_“Would you like a little sake? To take the edge off,” Tatsuki offered, giving the man before him a sympathetic glance. “This might hurt a little.”_

_“Yeah, sure,” The patient mumbled, eyes flitting back and forth between his own lap and Tatsuki’s face, suddenly shy. “I’m Daisuke, by the way. Daisuke Takeuchi.”_

_“You can call me Doctor Maeda,” Tatsuki replied, softening under the way Daisuke looked at him imploringly for the rest as he poured him a small cup of sake. “Doctor Tatsuki Maeda.”_

_Daisuke took the cup gratefully and threw the sake back in one impressive shot. Tatsuki raised his eyebrows as he poured some more of the sake onto a fresh cloth to sterilize the wound. Daisuke eyed him warily but let him take his arm again in one hand, and wipe the cut gently with the cloth. Tatsuki glanced briefly at Daisuke’s face when the wet cloth touched the torn skin._

_Daisuke winced, which didn’t surprise him; after all, it would sting. But the red hint in his cheeks, the blush creeping up them as he watched- that was surprising. So was the tickle of butterflies he felt in return. Tatsuki cleared his throat and returned his attention to the wound, dabbing the edges carefully, making sure there wasn’t any debris left. His hands needed to be steady for what came next. No more peeking at the blushing handsome stranger while he worked._

_“Maybe we could have another sake,” Daisuke said suddenly, and something about the way he said it made Tatsuki pause as he threaded the needle, made him look at Daisuke again in spite of himself._

_“You should be a little buzzed for this, not drunk.” Tatsuki said sternly, moving to pinch Daisuke’s skin together._  
  
_Just before his fingertips touched down, Daisuke spoke again. “I mean together. Later. After, maybe. If you want.”_

_Now Tatsuki’s cheeks felt hot. “Sure. Now hold still. I don’t want to hurt you.”_

“Yeah. It’s not just the words, I mean,” Tatsuki looked down at his hands, flexed his fingers. It was strange, to know in one life, he’d had the skill to mend flesh, a skill he hadn’t retained at all, much like the ability to paint, or swing a sword, or apply a perfect wingtip.

“You mean like, situations?” Dai prodded gently, to pull Tatsuki back from his silence.

“Yeah...yeah. How much are we repeating? Are we fated, or even doomed, to repeat certain events?” Tatsuki continued, looking back up to Dai. “How much is coincidence? How much is fate? How much are we really in control of?”

Dai frowned, lines creasing his brow, “That’s unsettling.”

Tatsuki shrugged, settling back into his seat and looking out the window again, eyes scanning the blanket of clouds draped over the passing mountaintops. “A week ago I didn’t really believe in fate. It’s just something to consider. Fate versus free will.”

He felt something brushing the back of his hand and was startled out of his thoughts. He glanced down at the culprit, immediately shaming himself for the excited kick his heart made at the reveal. Dai’s fingertips, hesitantly perched, stretching slowly, asking politely to let their fingers intertwine. Another quiet push at what they were now, at what they’d ever been; a nudge over the undefined lines Tatsuki had thrown down and left Dai to navigate blindly, groping in the dark.

Tatsuki bit down on his lip, considering. Maybe a little bit more was alright. Maybe this much was still his choice.

He flexed his fingers backwards, beckoning Dai’s, permission granted.

* * *

The ryokan was as traditional as it had looked on Tatsuki’s phone screen, comprised of sprawling, long open hallways leading to individual rooms. The entire complex encircled the open outdoor hot springs, which lay still and deserted at this time of year, this time of night. Steam rose like a mist and dissipated under the glow of the lanterns dotting the rocks, under the stars. They arrived just in time for dinner, stopping by their room only to drop their shared bag and slip into the provided dark blue yukatas and geta.

They had a chance to actually survey their room once they’d returned with their appetites sated and a mind for tea, allowing time for their meals to settle before getting in the onsen. The flooring was full tatami, and two futons were already laid out for them towards the center of the room, side by side. A long chabudai sat off to the side, tea set ready and waiting, complete with a freshly boiled kettle one of the staff must have dropped off while they were eating. More shoji doors led to a small balcony overlooking a private garden.

Dai shuffled towards the table and knelt down to start preparing the tea while Tatsuki inspected the room, gathering his thoughts. There was an alcove in the wall, decorated with the standard fare - two statues of Shinto gods bookending another smaller chabudai. There was an antique katana centered on top of it, cradled by a plain black stand. The equally old decorative painting of the Aki-jingū waterfall hanging behind it made a tiny chill run up Tatsuki’s spine. _Daisuke-sama_.

He glanced back to the very mortal, very ungodlike man kneeling on the tatami, focusing intently on pouring two cups of green tea. He felt a strange fondness, tinged with bewilderment. But there was a thought he couldn’t shake, one that wouldn’t leave him alone, one he’d gone over and over again on the shinkansen until it had become smooth and polished like a pebble on the shore, one that wouldn’t stop bouncing around his brain. He balanced the words on his tongue, considering their taste, their bite, with great care.

“Do you think it’s really been our choice, ever since the first time?”

Dai froze, pushing the cups of tea back from the edge of the table before shuffling around again on his knees to face Tatsuki. The look on his face was worried, cautious.

“What do you mean?” He asked slowly, as if he were afraid of what Tatsuki’s answer might be.

“Did we play ourselves for fools, when we tied the string?”

Saying it out loud was terrifying, made it a real, solidified thought. A dangerous, loaded question. But he pressed on, eyes scanning and taking in every detail of Dai’s face, of his reaction, trying to analyze as the questions he’d been mulling over tumbled out in an unstoppable stream. “Are you here right now because you really want to be? Have you ever been, aside from our first life? Or am I your obligation, now? Because of the string tying us together?”

Tatsuki paused, eyes flitting back over to the old painting in the alcove. The portrait. “Is it love or guilt? Choice? Or fate?”

Daisuke shrugged, casually, maddeningly, as if Tatsuki were asking him what type of tea he preferred, as if none of this bothered him at all. “I never thought about it.”

“Never?” Tatsuki asked in disbelief, turning his face back to raise both eyebrows at Dai. “You never wondered if we’re really falling for each other across the eons, or if we’re just prisoners of fate? If these feelings are even real, or just because of the string? If any of this is really even our choice? You’re not even slightly concerned?”

“I don’t have to think about it.” Dai said calmly, naively, with a smile Tatsuki was sure was meant to be reassuring, but just sent a flash of anger through him. “I’d choose you. I know I’d choose you. Every single time. I’d choose you over and over again.”

“Really? That’s funny,” Tatsuki snapped, seeing red as he crossed his arms and turned to face Dai fully, his simmering rage now boiling over. “I seem to remember a different attitude in Sochi.”

Dai flinched. “Tatsuki-”

“Don’t.” Tatsuki said coldly, shaking his head once firmly at Dai, “Actions speak louder than words, Daisuke. And what have you done so far, all this time? From what we’ve seen, over and over again, all you’re  _really_ good at is breaking my heart and getting me killed. So what’s the point? Why stay stuck in this cycle?”

Dai’s face made him look like a kicked puppy. Pitiful, wounded, big brown eyes begging for mercy. But it wasn’t going to work on Tatsuki, not now, not this time, not when he was finally getting everything off his chest, off his mind: every resentment, every doubt, every question, every fear. He gathered his strength, fingers curling into his palms, pressing hard enough to hurt.

“Maybe we should let them sever it. Maybe you should stay away from me, for once, so I can live a full life.”  
  
“Why is the length what makes it full for you?!” Daisuke finally snapped back, hands balling into fists on his knees, anger darkening his voice, his face. “Maybe a life with you in it is full enough for me, no matter how short it is!”  
  
“You’re unbelievable.” Tatsuki hissed, angry tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, and the annoyance of that made him even more furious. “Have you considered the feelings of another, ever, even once, in all of your lives?! Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself?!”

“I think about _you_!” Dai shouted, voice strained with exasperation as he slammed his fists against the tatami. “I think about you all the time!”

“Then show it!” Tatsuki shot back, narrowing his eyes, “Words are meaningless without action behind them, especially when you say them again and again and nothing ever changes. What do you even want from me?!”

“Nothing,” Dai insisted, his eyes pleading now, almost desperate. “Just you.”

"That's rich. That was never enough for you before." Tatsuki's voice dripped with cold, knowing his words would cut deep, speaking them anyway. "So what's different now?"

The hurt and confusion in Dai's eyes did nothing but fuel the flames of Tatsuki's anger. He remembered the cold Russian winter air, how little he felt its bite against the words coming from Dai's mouth. The vacant, blank stare from those same eyes, staring through him without seeing; the sting of tears in his own. He remembered pouring it all into the ice, carving out his fury, his anguish, his grief, an attempt at closure, only to find Dai had done the same. Only to find Dai at his feet, at his door, with sweet words and sweeter hands. Only to find that still nothing changed; only to find himself alone at the end, again. And again. And again.

"Everything," Dai croaked, hoarse with his own frustration. "Everything is different. How can you not see that?!"  
  
“I can’t listen to this right now. I need some air.” Tatsuki snapped and turned sharply on his heel, stalking towards the entrance of the room, pausing only to shove the geta on his feet, wiping angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand only once he was sure Dai couldn’t see. It was hard to slam a shōji door closed with feeling, but he managed. He even managed to make it all the way down the dim, lantern-strung corridor before he needed to bite the back of his hand to muffle the frustrated cry trying to wrench itself from his throat.

* * *

Dai sat on his knees for several minutes, stunned, silent. He bit his tongue, bit back the tears threatening to well up and spill over, refusing to let them, bidding them back, bidding them away. Tatsuki’s words echoed in his mind, again and again, each echo twisting the knife deeper. _Maybe we should let them sever it. Maybe you should stay away from me._

They’d fought before, in the past. It had never been pleasant. But it had never felt like this. His chest hurt, like Tatsuki’s words had punched a hole through it. His head was still spinning, from the depth of Tatsuki’s questions, from how quickly everything had taken a turn, from how small and broken he felt now in Tatsuki’s wake. The resentment stung him as deeply as it had been laying buried in Tatsuki.

He turned his hands over on his knees and stared down at his open palms. Stared at the lines that made no sense to him but had terrified a palm reader only days ago. Stared at his left little finger, at the place he’d once tied himself to Tatsuki forever with a red string. _Is it really our choice anymore?_

Was this really it? After everything? Could it all be leading to this? What _was_ it all for, then, if they stopped fighting fate now?

He balled his hands into fists again, punched them hard against his thighs. Every life, every sacrifice, every painful separation, every agonizing end. He had to make him see. _Words are meaningless._ So he had to show him. But how? How, when Tatsuki was so hurt by the past, he didn’t have any faith in the future? What could he possibly do to prove that this wasn’t a matter of duty, or guilt, or obligation for him?

He stared bleakly at the alcove where Tatsuki had been standing, missing his presence acutely, feeling the space it left. Even when Tatsuki’s eyes were full of fire, even when his tongue was biting, spitting venom, even when there were tears streaking down his face, twisted with anger, Dai wanted him near. Even when the anger was for him. He wanted to be there for all of it. The good, the bad, the ugly.

It was no small wonder Tatsuki couldn’t believe that, after Sochi, after everything in this life, but…

_“Dai!”_

Tatsuki’s panicked scream sent a dark, freezing terror immediately all the way down through his bones. Dai scrambled to his feet and bolted across the room, stumbling over himself as he shoved his geta on. He flung the shoji door open so hard it ricocheted, flew down the hallway without thinking about where he was going. His heart was pounding in his chest and in his ears, needing to see Tatsuki alive, and unharmed, right now, there was no alternative, if he was in danger he had to-

He rounded the corner of the hallway and saw them, over the railings and down the grassy knoll, standing face to face in the gravel driveway leading toward the ryokan’s main entrance. Tatsuki, frozen in place like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and frightened, arms clutched protectively around his own chest. And across from him, towering over him: a shinigami, face covered by a patchwork mask of bones, mismatched bits of different skulls and teeth and horns.

Rage coursed through Dai, so much he went nearly blind with it. Rage, and the strongest urge to protect something he’d ever felt. He leapt over the short railing, scrambling down the short slope of hill. His hand was pulling the first geta off his left foot before he even registered what he was doing, body moving automatically.

“ _Oi!_ _Oi oi oi!_ ” Dai yelled, louder than he ever had in his life, and flung the thick wooden sandal directly at the shinigami’s head with all his might.

Tatsuki’s eyes widened even further, turning to look at Dai with a mixture of bemusement, relief and absolute terror. Time seemed to go in slow motion as the sandal arced through the air, toe over heel again and again, until it landed smack on the top of the shinigami’s head with an audible thwack, bouncing off and landing sideways on the drive. The shinigami paused in its advance towards Tatsuki and slowly turned its head - just its head - sideways towards the source of the impact, towards the sound of Dai’s voice. Its eyes were round, yellow balls striped with black, rolling incessantly in every direction behind its grotesque bone mask.

“You stay away from him!” Dai shouted, face a mask of rage, already hopping on one foot towards the pair. He pulled off his second geta and hurled it with vigor equal to his first impromptu attack. “Motherfucker!”

Tatsuki was gaping at him now, but there was a hint of a bewildered smile ghosting over one corner of his lips, even with the fear still clear in his eyes. Adrenaline spiked through Dai’s veins, mixing a potent cocktail with his anger: a sudden, fierce, and unstoppable desire to protect Tatsuki at any cost. The shinigami turned the rest of its body when the second geta clonked off its skull, facing Dai fully. Dai didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, just rushed towards the creature. Towards the minor death god standing between him and the man he’d once given up his own godhood for.

Something changed then, as Tatsuki’s eyes grew even wider, his mouth forming Dai’s name but producing no sound. The shinigami jolted and took a step back. Dai could feel the wind in his hair, hair longer than he should have, blowing back from his face and over his shoulders as he ran. He could feel the soles of boots under his feet now instead of raw pebbles, could see the blur of richly embroidered black robes in the air as his arms swung while he ran from the corner of his eye. But he didn’t have time to care right now, not when the shinigami was still so close to Tatsuki, not when everything that mattered stood on the edge of a knife, ready to be shattered the second one bony talon reached out to take what its master had commanded.

But he didn’t get a chance to find out what would happen if he barrelled full-speed into a shinigami, because it skittered out of range, up on its disjointed clawed toes, bony wings spreading as an inhuman shriek bleated out from behind its mask. It vanished in a dramatic swirl of black smoke and rotten feathers, leaving Dai stumbling as he caught himself on one leg, fighting for balance so he didn't topple over full-speed into the ground instead.

For a moment the only sound was his own labored breath; then, blended with Tatsuki's shaky exhale, a frail whisper, one he'd never been more happy to hear. "Dai…"

Dai turned to face Tatsuki and they stared at each other in silence for a moment, wide-eyed and processing, overwhelmed.

“I thought…” Dai stammered, body still shaking. He grabbed Tatsuki and pulled him roughly into a tight embrace.  
  
“I know.” Tatsuki gasped into his shoulder. “I know. Me too."

Tatsuki's arms curled up around his back, fingers digging into his shoulders, clinging. Dai squeezed him tighter with a relieved sigh, one that still shook with the awareness of how close a call they'd just had. They stayed like that for another couple of minutes, until they'd both stopped shaking, until their breathing was slowed and even again.

"Did you really just call a shinigami a motherfucker?" Tatsuki muttered, face tucked somewhere near his ear, and Dai barked out a short laugh. He pulled back, pressing his hands to either side of Tatsuki's face, leaning their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah I did." Dai said, sheepish smile growing on his face.

Tatsuki hummed, releasing Dai's shoulders to place his hands over Dai's, hold them gently against his face. "You…you changed…somehow. For just a few seconds. I think…I think that scared it off."

“I know. I don’t know how.” Dai mumbled, stroking Tatsuki’s cheeks gingerly with his thumbs.

“You’re lucky. Touching that thing probably would have killed you. What were you even thinking?” Tatsuki pinched the back of his hands before letting them go.

“I wasn’t,” Dai admitted, opening his eyes to meet Tatsuki’s as he drew back. “I just couldn’t lose you again.”

Tatsuki’s breath hitched in his throat, eyes scanning Dai’s face. He opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but hesitated. They stayed in the silence for another moment, simply considering each other, before Tatsuki shook his head quickly and cast Dai a small, tight smile. “Can we go to the onsen? To relax. I want to think.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dai took a step forward before quickly remembering he had two sandals to reacquire.

Tatsuki waited patiently while he gathered them, offering one arm for balance while Dai shoved them back onto his feet. Dai shot him a look of gratitude and they headed back towards the entrance, opting to go the long way around to the actual entryway instead of climbing up the hill and hopping over the railing the way Dai had come down.

The ryokan was so still it felt almost deserted. There was no sign of any other guests, and any staff who might still have been awake tending to the inn were keeping quiet and out of sight. Even the evening cicada songs were soft, muted, as if they didn’t want to disturb the night. The echo of their geta against the wood floor even seemed too loud, and both fell self-consciously into a more traditional shuffling step as they headed down the long hall towards the onsen. The warm sulfuric smell wafted out even before Dai had drawn back the blue curtain. Even the washing room felt warm, but pleasantly, like a comfortable embrace, as they stripped down, soaped up and rinsed off. Dai kept his eyes firmly on himself, on the mirror in front of him, not wanting to push his luck.

The hot springs were still as empty as the rest of the ryokan, a private retreat under the blanket of stars. They’d been carved out directly from the natural rock, and more lanterns lay scattered across the outcroppings to light the way just enough for late night bathers. There was even a tiny man-made waterfall on one side, no doubt a tribute to the nearby Aki-jingū waterfall. A tribute to Dai. Even as he stepped into the waters of the onsen, the thought made him shiver.

Tatsuki led the way to one of the corners to the side of the waterfall, where a small alcove jutted out from the rest of the onsen. He sank down in the corner, placing his small towel to the side on the rocks. Dai followed his lead, back scraping lightly against the rocks as he sat down. The water was scorching hot, as expected, but he adjusted quickly, deep relaxation seeping in, until he felt boneless. Aching muscles, scorched further by the dump of adrenaline, were soothed by the water. The minerals made the water feel almost like silk on his skin, smooth and decadent.

For a while the quiet trickle of the waterfall was the only sound, until Tatsuki lifted his legs out of the water, crossed at the ankles in an imitation of a ningyo’s tail, and splashed: once, twice. A delirious noise bled out of him as he let his head fall back, something between a laugh and a sob. A confused, wounded sound. And still, he was beautiful, a vision through the tendrils of steam rising from the waters of the onsen, even with distress still clear on his face, twisting his features; even with anger still radiating off of him in waves, waves much less gentle than the ripples their own movements made.

Tatsuki cupped the water with his hands, staring at his own reflection in the water before bringing it up to splash across his face, sighing as he rubbed his fingers against his cheeks. Dai watched silently, gnawing on his lower lip, considering. His heart was still pounding a mile a minute, and the temperature of the hot spring was doing nothing to calm it, nor was the sight of Tatsuki before him now. He wasn’t sure what to do.

He wanted to comfort; he wanted to soothe. He wanted to touch - to grab Tatsuki and hold him close, and safe, and protected. And he wanted to _touch_ \- to run his fingers over every inch of Tatsuki, exploring, clawing, claiming. Take him apart and put him back together again. Fix him. Fix them. Fix everything. Fix one thousands years of everythings. Make it better. Make it right. He wanted to do penance, on his knees, to beg for forgiveness, for his sins, for his failures in this life and all the others. He wanted to be forgiven. He wanted redemption.

He moved forward, slowly, onto his knees, and began to crawl. He knew he didn’t have words right now, and any he tried to find would be the wrong ones. But maybe, maybe he could _show_. Maybe they could speak a different language, one that came more easily to him, one he didn’t fuck up as often.

Tatsuki watched him curiously, staying entirely still and silent as Dai closed the distance between them. His hands moved to Dai’s hips without a word as Dai rose up on his knees to hook his legs over Tatsuki’s before sinking back down into the water, straddling Tatsuki’s lap. He didn’t speak as Dai’s hands stroked up over his chest and gripped his shoulders, just closed his eyes and tilted his head back, ready, waiting.

Dai moved his hands up to cup Tatsuki’s face as he bent down to meet his lips. _I’m sorry_ , he tried to plead with every kiss. _Please forgive me_.

Tatsuki’s lips were soft and warm, meeting Dai’s with enthusiasm instead of reluctance. There was something raw in it, something needy. An affirmation of life. His skin already felt impossibly smooth under Dai’s touch, nourished by the minerals and sulfur in the water. Tatsuki dug his fingers into the flesh of Dai’s hips as they kissed, soliciting a tiny groan, and Dai rocked forward against him instinctively.

“Not here,” Tatsuki mumbled, hands moving to Dai’s chest to push him away gently. “We’ll overheat and die. Come on.”

Dai spared a glance up to the stars as Tatsuki led the way back inside, tearing his eyes away from Tatsuki’s naked back, the shimmer of his wet skin in the moonlight. He gave silent thanks, made a silent prayer - to who, he wasn’t sure - that they could have tonight. And the night after. And more after that. That this wasn’t the end, and tomorrow wouldn’t be either.

And they owed him nothing, the stars and whoever, whatever, was behind them. He’d had countless chances. A thousand years worth. But just one more…one more… _please_.

Dai couldn’t take his eyes off Tatsuki this time as they rinsed off in the washing area, but Tatsuki didn’t seem to mind. Tatsuki still didn’t speak, but he threw a coy smile over his shoulder as he slipped back into his deep blue yukata. One that made Dai’s fingers fumble as he tied the obi of his own. He had never been able to read Tatsuki’s mind, let alone understand it, but it left him fascinated anyway, left him following Tatsuki down the dark hallway of the ryokan without question. He’d follow him anywhere. He knew that now.

Dai was still sliding the interior door of their room closed behind them when Tatsuki finally spoke again.

“In front of the futon. On your knees.”

Tatsuki’s words, cold and commanding, shot through every single one of Dai’s nerves, setting them alight. Tatsuki was still mad. Dai turned around slowly, already knowing what he would find, already knowing the excitement would be written all over his face and Tatsuki would spot it immediately. The blood was rushing to his head, pounding in his ears. He hadn’t thought he’d be seeing _this_ Tatsuki again so soon, but here they were, and here Dai was struggling to hide his delight. He silently thanked the stars again as he walked to the foot of the futon, turning around to face Tatsuki again as he knelt down, as demanded.

Tatsuki’s face would have been unreadable to anyone else. Blank, stoic, intimidating. But Dai knew better; Dai could see the spark of desire in his dark eyes. Dai had been here, eager at Tatsuki’s feet, more than once before. Sometimes, this was something Tatsuki needed. And always, always, something Dai was happy to give. Maybe, if he was honest with himself, it was something, sometimes, he needed too. To let someone else take control for a little while. To give himself over completely. Tatsuki stepped closer and cupped his face, his palm warm against Dai’s cheek, fingers drumming feather-light taps against his cheekbone. Dai shivered at his touch but held his gaze, ready, already begging with his eyes.

Tatsuki knelt down slowly, facing Dai, so close Dai could feel Tatsuki’s breath ghost across his face, his lips. Then he placed both hands on Dai’s chest and _shoved_.

Dai gasped as his back hit the futon, scrambling backwards on his elbows as Tatsuki crawled forwards over him. He stopped when Tatsuki did, Tatsuki’s hand pressing firmly on his chest again with another simple command. “Down.”

A soft whimper escaped from Dai’s lips before he could stop it as his head hit the buckwheat hull pillow. Tatsuki smirked, and Dai knew he was in for it. Anticipation threaded its way through his body, started to collect and pool deep in his belly. There was a gentle amusement in Tatsuki’s voice, on his face, eyebrows slightly raised and smirk still faintly on his lips as he issued his next command. “Arms.”

Dai stretched his arms up over his head wordlessly, biting his lip just in time to muffle a tiny grunt. Tatsuki sat back on his heels, hands moving swiftly to untie his own obi from his waist. Dai knew it was hopeless, this mission to stay silent, from the moment Tatsuki leaned forward with the obi stretched between his hands, yukata already starting to fall open and hang loosely around his chest. From the second he felt Tatsuki’s fingers circling his wrists, pulling them together to bind the obi tightly around them.

Tatsuki trailed his fingers down Dai’s outstretched arms, pulling his touch away but remaining curled over him, lips so close Dai could almost taste them. He craned his neck up, seeking, and Tatsuki pulled back again, hovering just out of reach, lips curling up into a teasing smile.

“ _Stay_ ,” he breathed, and then he was gone, leaving Dai craving the warmth and the weight of him desperately.

He didn’t know what Tatsuki had in mind, and he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. As long as he came back, as long as he touched him again, he could do anything he wanted. Luckily, he wasn’t waiting long before Tatsuki stepped back into view, stepped over Dai, and moved slowly into a kneeling position, carefully straddling Dai’s waist again. Dai closed his eyes as Tatsuki slicked his fingers; he bit his lip and braced for the press of them, but it didn't come. Instead, a soft gasp came from Tatsuki, and Dai couldn't stop his own needy moan from escaping when he opened his eyes again to the sight above him.

Tatsuki, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted, yukata falling completely open now, modesty forgotten - discarded - as he slowly, gently worked himself open. A litany of tiny gasps were coming now, spilling from his lips like a symphony, a sinful chorus, and it took every ounce of willpower Dai had not to roll his hips up in response, in reverence.

When Tatsuki’s hand, cold and slick, wrapped around him, Dai couldn't stop the staggered gasp it tore from his throat as his eyes rolled back, couldn’t stop his back from arching off the futon, into Tatsuki's touch. Tatsuki laughed softly, placing his other hand firmly on Dai's stomach and pressing him back down flat against the mattress.

"I said  _stay_ ," he chided gently, one hand tugging at Dai's robes, shoving and maneuvering the fabric aside. The other began to stroke, excruciatingly slow.

Dai whined, high in his throat, already feeling so close to the brink, already knowing Tatsuki wasn’t anywhere near finished with him yet. He was going to draw this out until Dai was shaking, begging, for release, punishment and penance complete. He bit back another moan as Tatsuki’s hand guided him into place and then steadied. Tatsuki sank further down onto his knees, but not far enough, teasing. His other hand braced against Dai’s chest for balance as he hovered there, keeping Dai just pressed tauntingly against him, and not in.

“Tatsuki,  _please_ ,” Dai pleaded, voice already raspy and rough around the edges.

Tatsuki smiled, satisfied, and sank down further, mouth falling open with a vulgar gasp at the feel, before he stopped again.

Dai nearly sobbed, entire body wracked with need. He felt himself trembling, fighting the urge to thrust up, knowing what that would mean. What would happen if he did. Tatsuki would pull away, leave him cold and naked and wanting until his voice was raw from begging for him to return. So he fought his own instincts, fought the delirious, growing urges and shook with the effort.

He knew Tatsuki appreciated his efforts when he slid down just that little bit further, halfway now, before he paused again. Dai let out another frustrated groan and Tatsuki’s fingers curled against his chest.

“Stay still,” Tatsuki whispered, bringing his other hand around now to brace against Dai’s chest, half-smile still tugging up one corner of his lips. And then he closed his eyes and sank down further, further, ever so slowly, drawing it out as long as possible. Tatsuki’s own breathy moan matched Dai’s cry of relief as Tatsuki finally let him all the way in.

Tatsuki’s fingers trembled where they lay curled in the fabric of Dai’s yukata, breaths coming closer together now as he leaned forward and began to move, still agonizingly slow and languid. Pleasure washed over Dai like a flood, from the tips of his fingers where his hands lay bound down to the curl of his toes. It was like torture, but a torture he'd willingly endure, a torture he'd gladly accept as punishment for all of eternity.

"Oh my god," Dai groaned, pleading eyes finding Tatsuki’s gaze. "Macchi, please, I want to move, please?"

"Not yet," Tatsuki murmured between his own gasps as he increased his pace. "Wait."

He moved one hand behind him to grasp Dai's thigh, the other to grasp himself, and leaned back. The change in angle drew out another crazed sound from Dai. The sight, the feel of him, was too much - Dai's fingernails scraped against the tatami, fingers twitching, clawing, desperate. He couldn't last much longer, not like this, putty in Tatsuki's hands, obedient and repentant. Not when Tatsuki was like this, in total control but with a tenderness underlying every command.

Not when Tatsuki looked like this, neck exposed as his head rolled back, open-mouthed and moaning softly, cheeks flushed with color and eyes fighting to stay open - and when they were, they were always seeking Dai's, making sure he was still watching, rapt.

Tatsuki slowed to a stop and Dai bit back another frustrated groan, gazing questioningly up at Tatsuki as he straightened up, one hand rising up to his own chest.  
  
He grinned, all teeth and mirth, and beckoned Dai with one finger. “Come.”

Dai immediately yanked his wrists apart, breaking free of the binds of the obi, like he could have all along if he had wanted to. Tatsuki laughed, the familiar playful laugh he’d heard just like this so many times, in so many lives before, and the sound shot straight through Dai’s heart as he pulled himself up and grabbed Tatsuki into a tight embrace, mouthing wetly, earnestly, at the curve of his neck, the line of his jaw. At the lovebite he'd left the night before. For the briefest moment, Tatsuki’s hair seemed longer, curling up past his shoulders, and there was a flicker of an impeccably thick cat-eye, a shiny flash of silver and gems dangling from one ear. But they were gone in the blink of an eye, before Dai had pulled Tatsuki down onto the futon, before he’d rolled them both over so Tatsuki’s back was on the floor, still cradled in Dai’s arms, never once breaking their clutch in the process.

Dai couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think straight, face pressed against Tatsuki’s, breathing, panting into his neck. His thrusts were wild, feverish. Overwhelmed and unrestrained. Tatsuki's hands clawed hard at Dai's back, hard and deep, until Dai gently moved his left hand out from under Tatsuki, tracing up the path of his arm and pushing it down against the tatami mat, lacing their fingers together.

Something bubbled up inside of him, up his throat, something so needy and desperate and wanting, that he felt a little ashamed, tried to bite it back. But it fell from his lips anyway, a strained whisper, soft in Tatsuki’s ear. “Don’t leave me.”

Tatsuki’s sharp intake of breath was followed by the tight squeeze of his fingers around Dai’s, hard enough to hurt.

“Idiot,” Tatsuki whispered in his ear in return, the edges of his voice rough and choked with tears.

Dai frowned, slowing his thrusts, and moved his right hand so he could brace himself better against the floor and lift himself up to check on Tatsuki. Tatsuki didn’t meet his eye, blinking rapidly so any treacherous tears would be pushed to the edges of his eyelashes; he looked past Dai, away from him, head turned slightly aside, gaze flitting between the beams of the ceiling and the table where their tea still sat, long cold.

“Hey…” Dai murmured, pulling his fingers free from Tatsuki’s to gently cup his face and turn it back towards him. “Hey, hey...are you okay?”

Tatsuki hummed and closed his eyes, still avoiding Dai’s gaze. “I didn’t say stop. Keep going.”

Tatsuki’s hair was spilled out around him like a halo, cheeks still pink, robes wide open and chest still rapidly rising and falling with every breath. Stunning, still, even in complete disarray. Even with his eyes still shut tight, even with unshed teardrops still trembling from his lashes.

“Not until I know you’re okay,” Dai said firmly, bending down to place a kiss on the wet corner of one of Tatsuki’s eyes, then the other. Tatsuki’s breath hitched as Dai moved up to plant another small kiss on the middle of his right eyebrow, the middle and just a little bit to the right, where Dai’s favorite beauty mark had always lived, in every life.

“I’m fine.” Tatsuki insisted again, arms moving to encircle Dai’s neck as he rocked his hips up impatiently with a short gasp at the feeling. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Dai mumbled, pressing his forehead against Tatsuki’s as he started to move again, slowly at first, stroking Tatsuki’s cheek gently before placing his hand against the tatami. “Okay.”

Any doubts he had about Tatsuki’s state of mind were soon tempered when he felt Tatsuki’s lips nudging, seeking his own; felt the sting of Tatsuki’s teeth tugging on his lower lip; heard the sultry moan, music to his ears. But still, something lingered, as they approached a more frenzied pace again. Something nagged at the back of Dai’s mind, refusing to leave him alone.

Dai pulled back, breaking their kisses, still moving, but eyes moving now too to search Tatsuki’s face. Any trace of the tears that had threatened to fall earlier were gone now, but his eyes were still closed. And Dai was close now, so close, and he knew, could tell, Tatsuki was too- but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, not yet.

“Hey...” Dai said softly, tenderly, words barely above a whisper. “Look at me.”

Tatsuki’s eyes fluttered open slowly. He met Dai’s gaze almost reluctantly, still shy from his spike of emotion. The second their eyes met, Tatsuki’s widened, mouth falling open in a startled gasp, hands slipping from around Dai’s neck to scramble and claw at his shoulders. A similar noise of disbelief came from Dai as Tatsuki shifted before him. The robes laying billowed open around his arms and chest were now pure white: a priest’s nagajuban. His thick black hair was suddenly several inches longer, still splayed out around him in a haphazard halo. His face, that face, was the same face he’d always had, but somehow also uniquely the face that hard started it all, a thousand years ago.

And Dai knew he’d changed as well. He knew from the long black ponytail suddenly spilling over his shoulder, from the look and the weight of it. He knew from the thick, caked feel of red and black paint around his eyes, from the black and gold laden sleeves of his own robe. He knew from the way Tatsuki arched into him now, body shaking and head rolling back, from the way he called Dai’s name, the sound as fresh as it was ancient. It was him, it had always been him, it would always be him.

Dai wasn’t far behind. A torrent of emotions coursed through him as powerfully as his climax did, and he collapsed immediately into Tatsuki’s waiting arms, mind and body still shaken as he lay his head on Tatsuki’s chest, fighting to catch his breath. One of Tatsuki’s hands cradled his head, fingers carding through Dai’s now back-to-normal hair, equally silent, equally overwhelmed, his other hand resting gently against Dai’s back.

“I...wow,” Dai stammered eventually, and Tatsuki laughed, pressing his chin to the top of Dai’s head.

“We should get cleaned up,” Tatsuki insisted more than suggested, hand stroking idly up and down Dai’s back. “We can’t fall asleep like this. Come on.”

* * *

The bathroom was as traditional as the rest of the ryokan. A large wooden tub to one side and on the other, two wooden stools near a separate showerhead and a small shelf and mirror. Tatsuki had already arranged his own toiletries, in nice and neat travelling containers, along the length of the shelf- shampoo, conditioner, body wash, bath loofah. Dai sat down first, at Tatsuki’s behest, and closed his eyes as the showerhead sputtered to life in Tatsuki’s hand. Tatsuki tested the temperature before turning the spray on Dai. The water was hot; not as hot as the onsen, but steam still rose quickly, fogging the mirror. Dai seemed to be listening to the sound of the water hitting the tiles, of Tatsuki hanging up the showerhead to lift the first tiny bottle to squeeze some of its contents into his hand. When Tatsuki’s fingers began combing through his hair, working the shampoo into a lather, Dai leaned his head back into Tatsuki’s touch.

Tatsuki smiled as Dai let out a contented hum. They didn’t speak, but the silence was comfortable. Soothing. So was massaging Dai’s scalp with his fingers, and gently brushing the strands of hair away from Dai’s eyes as he rinsed his hair clean. Tatsuki could tell Dai was thinking, could see the tiny furrows in his brow as Tatsuki massaged the conditioner into his hair, and bit back the urge to tease him, tell him not to hurt himself. Not now. Not the time.

Dai opened his eyes now as Tatsuki prepared the loofah, head still tilted back, looking at him questioningly. Tatsuki merely smiled and used his free hand to gently push Dai’s head back upright. Dai made a tiny, soft sound as Tatsuki pressed the loofah to his back and began to scrub. Tensed, for just a moment, and then relaxed. But his breaths stayed shaky, until Tatsuki was pressing the loofah over his shoulder, passing it to Dai so he could finish the rest himself.

When he stood to finish and rinse off, they traded places, wordlessly, Tatsuki taking his place on the stool and waiting patiently for Dai to move behind him and wet his hair. He glanced up into the mirror, wanting to meet Dai’s eyes there, but it was too foggy, so he closed his instead.

Dai’s touch was hesitant at first, like Tatsuki might break, like he hadn’t just pinned him and taken him hard against the floor of their room less than an hour prior. Tatsuki felt his cheeks heating, felt a flicker of something in his chest. But he’d been gentle then, too, hadn’t he? He thought about the press of Dai’s lips, light and sweet, to the tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. To the beauty mark hidden in his brow. The touch of Dai’s fingers, stroking down his cheek, cupping his face. Tender. Adoring.

Dai’s fingers moved more solidly in his hair now, working the shampoo attentively into a lather. Solid, but with the same underlying care. It was nice.

"I'm sorry. For before."

Tatsuki flinched, stiffening under Dai’s touch, at the sound of his words. At the weight of them.

"Which before?" He shot back dryly before he could stop himself.

"Pick one," Dai said softly, simply. Tatsuki’s heart clenched in his chest.

Dai moved on to the conditioner, giving his words time to sink in, time to settle, before he added, "Back then. After Sochi."

Tatsuki’s breath caught in his throat. He was suddenly very glad the mirror was obscured, glad Dai couldn’t see his face. His guard was slipping. He wouldn’t be able to keep the way hearing that made him feel hidden.

“I was afraid,” Dai continued, hands as gentle in Tatsuki’s hair as his voice was on his ears, “For all the normal reasons. But that wasn’t all of it.”

Dai’s fingers paused, twitching against Tatsuki’s scalp. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, like he was psyching himself up for what he was going to say next. Tatsuki did his best to steel himself for what it could possibly be, already feeling slightly overwhelmed- not just from the events of the night itself, but from the words coming out of Dai’s mouth now, words he hadn’t realized he’d still been waiting to hear for five years.

“I _have_ considered your feelings, you know? I wasn’t just afraid of all the usual bullshit. I was afraid of not being good enough. For you.”

Dai stepped away to grab the showerhead again and Tatsuki was grateful for the opportunity to let out a small, sharp exhale of breath, one that the noise of Dai’s movements would conceal. He twisted his fingers together in his lap, holding himself as steady as he could. He closed his eyes as Dai rinsed his hair clean, combing through it gingerly with his fingertips as he did.

“I was sure back then, still pretty sure now, that I don’t deserve someone like you. And I’m sure, definitely sure, you deserve someone better than me.” Dai continued as he replaced the showerhead, took the loofah into his hand to pour a swirl of body wash onto it. “Lifetime after lifetime, I’ve fucked up so many ways, again and again, and I can’t fix those mistakes, I can’t undo every wrong.”  
  
Tatsuki couldn’t stop the shiver that went through him, but he could pretend it was from the first touch of the scrub against his back and not Dai’s words. It was heavy, after everything they’d already been through in the past few hours, let alone the past few days. At the same time, somewhere deep inside, something was unfurling slowly, like a long-curled-up flower finally turning to face the sun, absorbing its warmth and light. It felt like relief. It felt like closure. He bit gently into his lower lip. It felt like something new.

“But I don’t want to give up, anymore,” Dai said softly, rubbing slow circles on his back with the loofah. “Not on you. I want to be better. I want to become better. For you. I want to be worthy of you. I want to be the soulmate you deserve. I really do. I mean it.”

Tatsuki closed his eyes, took a shuddery breath. There wasn’t going to be any way to avoid the tears that were welling up now. It was too much. The only real victim would be his pride, but that still stung. Annoying. He brought his hands up to rub his eyes, wipe back the tears gathering at the corners. There was no chance that Dai didn’t notice. But mercifully, he didn’t comment, just kept making slow, comforting circles on Tatsuki’s back, continuing with his long apology.

“I’ve felt lost for so long. Not knowing what I wanted, or where I wanted to go, but what I’ve been missing, what I’ve been looking for...was you. It’s always been you.”  
  
“It’s been me and anyone you could have in between,” Tatsuki cut in dryly, leaning his head back to give Dai a pointed stare.

“You know what I mean,” Dai huffed, smacking his shoulder with the loofah before passing it over to him. “What I’ve been looking for was right here in front of me all along. For a thousand years, even.”

“Daisuke…” Tatsuki reached up with his free hand to take Dai’s, to squeeze it gently before letting go, “Thank you.”

Dai smiled down at him and simply nodded, all out of words for now. That was okay. That was more than enough. It was one of the more realistic events of the night, arguably so, but it somehow felt the most unreal. He felt a little blindsided. This, somehow, had been the most unexpected thing to happen to him tonight.

“I’ll go get our towels. Clothes,” Dai said, and Tatsuki nodded in reply, keeping his eyes on Dai until he’d left the bathroom.

Once the door closed behind him, Tatsuki let his head fall forward again, let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. His body went through the motions of washing and rinsing, while his mind kept replaying Dai’s words, Dai’s apologies, over and over again. Analyzing. Mulling. Deciding.

He was ready, when Dai re-entered, towels and their nightwear bundled in his arms. They dried off and dressed silently, and Tatsuki noticed immediately that Dai was nervous, shuffling from foot to foot again, making too many noises with his tongue against his teeth, fussing too much with his hair. Somehow, it was both reassuring and endearing.

“I wish you’d told me all of this back then. Things could have been different,” Tatsuki said coolly, and with a carefully placed scowl as he toweled his hair dry.  
  
“I’m telling you now,” Dai said, soft and sincere. “I’m here now.”  
  
It almost gave Tatsuki pause. Almost.

“Took you long enough,” He quipped back, shaking his hair back from his face as he hung up his towel.

“Things can be different now.”

Tatsuki’s heart kicked in his chest.  
  
“Maybe.” Tatsuki said, giving Dai a small smile over his shoulder as he opened the door back into the main room, leading the way back inside.

Dai had taken the time he’d spent on his own in the room to not only remake the futon they’d fallen onto earlier, but to push both together. Tatsuki looked back at him again, quirking one brow, but Dai just shoved his hands in his sweatpant pockets and shrugged, another sheepish grin on his face.

They got into bed facing each other, mirroring each other. Two sets of legs bent at the knee, two sets of hands tucked underneath the buckwheat pillows. Two pairs of eyes, studying each other’s faces in the quiet, in the dark. Eventually, Tatsuki spoke.

“I’ve been thinking. About what we should do tomorrow.”  
  
Dai’s face half-lit up with a cautious optimism he couldn’t keep out of his voice. “Yeah?”

“I think our fate is to fight against fate,” Tatsuki said solemnly, fighting back a smile at the excited expression growing on Dai’s face. “We have to make our own fate, just like the first time.”

“So tomorrow…” Dai said slowly, voice betraying his eagerness.  
  
“Tomorrow we fight,” Tatsuki reached across the small space between them to tuck a few strands of Dai’s hair behind his ear, “Tomorrow we face the fates and tell them we won’t be separated. Not then, not now…not ever.”  
  
Dai’s eyes widened in disbelief, misting over as his lips fumbled for words, gawking openly, looking a little bit like a fish. He managed to mumble out a single “Macchi-” before Tatsuki silenced him with his lips, lips that were already curving into a smile before they’d touched against Dai’s, soft and light and grateful.

“You found me.” Tatsuki murmured as they pulled apart, “All those times. Over and over again.”

“I’ll always find you.” Dai vowed, eyes still misty and awestruck, his voice thick with sincerity.

Tatsuki laughed, shaking his head slightly against the pillow. “Not true.”

Dai frowned slightly, looking at him with confusion. But Tatsuki just smiled, reaching out with his left hand to where Dai’s was now laying, not quite underneath the pillow, hooking their little fingers together. He thought of long summer days and the satisfying crunch of sharp blades on crisp ice, to the young man flowing so smoothly across the rink he might as well have been dancing. To the countless shinkansen journeys from Hiroshima to Kurashiki and back again, to the books that wound up in his hands, shaping a future he didn’t understand yet. To the jolt that went through him when their fingers brushed for the first time, a whisper of bells and flashes of gold-threaded black silk and sacred ropes running through his mind as he handed the smiling new Olympian his congratulatory bouquet. He squeezed their little fingers tighter together, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This time I found you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Thank you to my readers and cheerleaders. <3 So many thanks. And to my ever-patient betas, [capra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capra) and [halfjoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfjoker). The next chapter will be the Kami/Priest lifetime they're about to see in their dreams, we'll rejoin the modern day couple in Chapter 7 - the final chapter! Chapter 8 will be an epilogue. Reminder that the first sidefic ([Blood & Ink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20015254/chapters/47391943)) is now in progress and will be updating in the next week or so. If you like it, please let me know :)


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